When Will I Know
by deb24601
Summary: You don't get over Edward Cullen. Even when he was never really yours. A story about wanting, needing and, eventually, knowing. AH. Inspired by Jan 2012 Witfit prompts.
1. Is it?

_Hi guys! This is a short story I wrote in January using WitFit prompts from Fictionista Workshop. I posted them on another profile that I'm using just for WitFit but I had a nice response to the story and thought I'd share it with you. Aussiegirl101 has graciously agreed to beta these chaps so they don't make your brain cry. I'll update every day until complete - 16 chaps in all. I'll put the prompt at the bottom of each chap for those who are interested in that sort of thing._

**SM owns Twilight. **

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_It can't be him… _

_Can it?_

I look again, a quick glance. There's the hair – that's what caught my attention in the first place. That ridiculous mop of silky bronze hair. It's wet, from the near constant drizzling outside, and even though it's a shade darker than I remember it still stands out in a crowd. It still looks familiar.

I risk a peek at the man's face.

Beautiful, all sharp angles and planes, golden stubble and lashes that belong in a mascara advertisement. I can't see his eyes but I don't need to. Nobody else in the world looks like this man.

My stomach knots.

Oh God.

It _is _him.

My own face burns. The pure impact of him hasn't diminished, not in the least. In fact he's better looking than I remembered.

I have to get out of here before he sees me. I'm not on fire just because Edward Cullen's face can stop traffic. I'm not light-headed because he's the tallest person in line or his shoulders completely obscure the person in front of him. I swear to God he's throwing an aura... and I can't do this. Not again.

There are memories. There is shame.

There is want.

I take one more look and regret it. His hands are in his pockets, his dress pants stretched tight across the back.

I never even got the chance to touch it.

The one-two punch of the outline of his perfect rear and the memory of fingers I can't even see send me reeling.

Fingers that brushed the skin of my neck or shoulder so many times, innocently. Or so I always thought. I mean, what would Edward Cullen want with me?

Fingers that teased me just the once, one night, one moment. Skimming over my bare thigh, toying with the edge of my panties. Those fingers and those lips because, now that he's half-turned his head, I can see his full lips. I can remember his hot breath on my skin and the warm, wet trail they left on my neck. How he gasped my name. Ruined me.

I can't face him.

I try to back out of the coffee shop's line but I'm corralled in and no one seems to be getting my secret mind memo to get out of my way. Edward is only a few people in front of me. If I speak up he might recognize my voice.

_Would_ he recognize my voice?

Would _he_ even want to talk to _me_?

I'm not graceful at the best of times and ducking under the green rope to escape probably isn't the best idea. Of course, it isn't.

I stumble, I pull the whole fucking thing down with me, the rope, the two silver posts holding up the rope… I'm a heap on the floor, hot tears sting my eyes…

I don't dare look up, I just right myself, square my shoulders and start to walk toward the door. Low mutters and a few 'what the fucks?' reach my ears. My hand is on the door handle…

_Please, God. Just let me get out of here? Please?_

"Bella? Bella, is that you?"

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><p><em>WitFit prompt: Sizzle, fizzle, drizzle.<em>

_I made a playlist for the story. This chapter's song: Don't Panic by Coldplay_

Thanks for reading. Marina (rinabina on ff) made a gorgeous banner for this story and I flove it! Link on my profile. See you soon.


	2. Sunshine?

_SM owns Twilight. Beta'd by the awesome aussiegirl101._ _Thank you to Jada Pattinson and Violhaine for the "prereaders". (giggle)_

_We jump way back in time here._

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><p>I'm on my first date in two years and I think it's going okay. Mike isn't what anyone would call a gentleman but he's cute in a boyish way. He's attentive too, well at least he was... until his friends started showing up.<p>

Mike's brought me to a kind of rodeo place. We had dinner and I thought we were having a good time. I listened to him talk about football and he told me about his father's business and all the plans he has to improve it. When Tyler showed up and joined us I thought it was a chance meeting. Then another guy, Ben, slid into the booth and ordered a beer.

Now, Eric, with his girlfriend Angela, arrive and the place kind of morphs from rodeo restaurant to rodeo bar.

I excuse myself to use the restroom and try to puzzle out what happened. Did Mike invite his friends because he needed rescuing? Is he bored? Maybe... did he want me to meet them?

I don't want to ask. I'll just have to wait and see. I wind my way through rough wooden tables and chairs, down a dark hallway past the kitchen which is visible through the pass-through.

Huh. This place has a dance floor. And a mechanical bull.

Mike brought me to a bar for our first – and perhaps last – date. And it seems he invited his friends.

I check myself in the mirror of the ladies washroom or, as it's actually called here, the 'Cowgirls Stall'. I'm underwhelmed with what I see. Long boring brown hair. Boring brown eyes, roundly anxious behind glasses that I've recently realized are a shade too Harry Potter-ish. The jeans, reluctantly lent out by my roommate, Rose, are okay. They make my legs look longer than they are and that's good, I guess. The blue, silky blouse is pretty too. So, yay, the clothes are fine, it's just me that's boring.

Great. I suppose I should be glad anyone asked me out at all.

Lipstick can't hurt so I smear some on and blot it on tissue the way my mom does. I hate the sticky feeling of it but... I'm on a date. I'm making an effort. I fluff up my hair the way Rose does but it just makes me look like I've stuck my finger in a light socket so I pat it back down. I sigh. Time to face the music. Oh God. Music? Dance floor. Mike isn't going to expect me to dance, is he?

Mike is waiting outside and looks concerned. That's a good sign, right?

"You okay? You were in there a long time," he asks. He's smiling and I smile too. He really is cute. And nice. He came to find me even with all his friends here. "C'mon," he continues. "We're over at the bar now."

Mike takes my hand and I blush. Maybe he does like me. There are shots at the bar and the guys all have beer and the girls are drinking Alabama Slammers. The music is loud, too loud for conversation, and all communication has been reduced to hoisting drinks and shouted words. Mike has his arm slung around my shoulder in a proprietary way and I'm leaning into him. This is nice.

From the corner of my eye I see someone else join the group, there must be almost twelve of us altogether now. Mike's arm drops to my waist. The group shouts out greetings.

"Hey Edward!"

"Edwardoooooooo!"

"Cullen in da house!"

I look up at Mike and he's smiling but it looks strained. He's not like that with his other friends and I wonder what's up.

And then the sun comes out. Right in the middle of that dank, dark bar. Blinding, dazzling, intoxicating sunshine.

"How you doing, Mike? Been a while," the newcomer, presumably named Edward, shouts over the music. Even shouting, his voice is smooth and liquid.

Mike puts on a good show and shouts back. "Edward! Hey, man. I'm good, good. This is Bella." Mike squeezes me around the waist but I hardly feel it.

All I can see is Edward. His very green eyes hold mine and my brain function dips to survival mode. I barely stop myself from licking my lips, running my hand through my hair, shifting my hips to one side. My whole body is screaming to throw out some primal mating moves; signal to him that I'm his for the taking. Some small, civilized part of my mind chides me.

I'm on a date with Mike.

I like Mike.

Mike is cute and boyish and talks about stuff that I'm not interested in and...

Who's Mike again?

Edward is... I didn't even know guys could be that pretty. He's tall, he makes Mike look small, and his hair is a riot and is shining with the rotating, pulsing lights from the dance floor so I can't even tell what colour it is.

He's looking at me and I say 'hi' but the sound is swallowed up by the noise of the bar. Or perhaps no sound actually comes out. He smiles at me and I gasp, it's a completely involuntary reflex. It doesn't stop there. My body reacts, I have no control over myself. My nipples harden. I can feel the small of my back arch, ever so slightly but it does. Down low there's heat I've never felt in public before. I shift uncomfortably, like trying to scratch an itch you can't reach.

Edward's sincere smile shifts to a knowing smirk. Mike's arm tightens around my waist again.

Angela is beside me. "Come dance, Bella!"

"No!" I shout back, because I do not dance and the dance floor is all the way over there, away from the sunshine that I was just basking in.

Angela drags me to the small group of girls. The music is still loud but it's a slower song, one of those mid-tempo ones, a sexy beat. A song that has no business in a rodeo bar. It's seductive and I sway, Alabama Slammer and the strange heat of Edward sunshine coursing through me. I close my eyes and rock my hips to the sultry beat. That's as close to dancing as is safe for me.

When I open my eyes they land on Edward.

He's looking at me: he's been watching me.

I'm on fire for the first time in my life.

Angela tugs on my hand to get my attention. She leans in close. "Don't bother with Edward!" she shouts.

"I wasn't planning on it," I lie.

I look at Mike and he's watching me too. A twinge of guilt damps down the flames. How did everything change in four short minutes? Did everything change? I smile and wave to him and he holds his beer up in salute. I look back at Edward.

He's not alone. There is a blonde, a very beautiful blonde, wrapped around him like the parasitic moss on the trees near home. Angela leans back in. "That's Edward's type." I ignore her tone, I don't need to hear it. I know it.

I abruptly come back to who I am.

Brown.

Bookish.

Boring.

I make my way to Mike and he slides his arm around my waist again. We smile at each other but there's a wary edge to both our expressions. We see each other a little differently now.

I think about my moment in the sun and wish it had never happened. I wish I'd never seen Edward. The way you can't crave crème brulee if you've never had it. If I'd never met him, I never would have known.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading. <em>

_WitFit Prompt: handle_

_Song prompt: She Moves in Mysterious Ways (U2 covered by Snow Patrol)_


	3. For her?

_SM owns Twilight. Beta'd by aussiegirl101, my partner in wine. ;) Witfit prompt is in the end notes._

_Big jump in time here. I just like making sure you're paying attention. (i kid - it's witfits fault but it strangely works for the story)_

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><p>"Bella, can't you reach further? It has to go over that last hook!" Lauren is in charge of the decorating, I'm just a minion.<p>

We're setting up for tonight's festivities. Tanya is the first of us to turn twenty-five and I guess Lauren and Jessica are hoping that if they make a big deal out of _her_ party, everyone will make a big deal out of _their_ parties later in the year.

Because I don't believe for one hot second they're doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. Self-centred, grabby bitches...

"Not like that!" Lauren shrieks. "For fuck's sake, Bella, you'd think you'd never hung up garland! Jess?" Lauren lets go of the ladder I'm perched on and heads off to find her partner in whine. Angela comes out of the kitchen and takes Lauren's place, holding me steady. We've gotten to know each other pretty well; she knows Bella and ladders are a deadly combination.

"Just come down, Bella. Let them do it if they're going to be fussy," Ang says, quietly. She's right, of course, and I pick my way down carefully.

"Can I help in the kitchen? What still needs doing?" I ask. I look around Edward's apartment.

The girls, selfishly motivated or not, have done an admiral job. The place is festooned and ballooned in a wash of silver and white. Angela made a cake and Edward had arranged food to be delivered. He was out getting the necessary beer and wine before Tanya, the guest of honour, arrived later.

Oh yeah, Tanya is his girlfriend of the moment.

And yes, she's blonde.

"No, nothing to do until I can ice the cake and it's not completely cool yet," Ang answers. "Hey," she nudges me gently in the ribs. "Isn't this a year for you and Mike too? I remember the date from last year... it's my parent's anniversary. We should be celebrating _that_! Not," she looks around, not wanting to be overheard, "Edward's flavour of the month."

I shrug. I'm not sure yet if a year with Mike is something to celebrate. It's certainly hasn't been like the sweeping passion in books and movies but I suppose that sort of thing isn't realistic. The past year with Mike has been... nice. Very nice sometimes. There's nothing wrong with him. Well, nothing terribly wrong with him. He's yet to curl my toes in bed but he is... energetic at least. I reassure myself that things like that take time. And I like this new, busy social circle. I feel normal. I have friends and a boyfriend.

Not everybody gets to have the magical, soul-mate thing, right?

Right?

"Yep, a whole year," I say. I can hear my own lack of enthusiasm and try to cover. "We have a private celebration planned for later." I waggle my eyebrows and Ang giggles. She and Eric have been together for two years and still look at each other all googoo-eyed. Jessica and Lauren were already friends when they took up with Tyler and Ben about six months ago. We all hang out frequently but there is a definite sense of 'us' and 'them'.

Then there's Edward.

Edward who is part of the group but not. You know the phrase 'Women want him and men want to be him'? Well, as I've seen it, that only applies to film and rock stars. These guys, his supposed friends... so jealous.

Ben: "I heard Edward did some 'experimenting' when he backpacked through Europe a few years ago. Not that there's anything wrong with that!"

Eric: "Yeah, I mean, don't you think this revolving door dating thing is maybe a little 'he doth protest too much?'"

Mike: "He's the reason I don't date blondes anymore. Bella? Are there anymore of these beernuts? Thanks babe!"

Yeah, Edward apparently dated a variety of blondes, not always checking if they were completely available, according to Mike. I've forgotten a few of their names already and those are just the ones he brings around. He travels a bit for work. I don't like to think about what he gets up to... well I do, but I imagine myself as the girl at the bar and wonder what pick up line he would use. Something like, "Would you like to come upstairs with me?" would do the trick.

Because it's never gotten any easier.

It's been a year, a year I've spent mostly happily, okay content... whatever. It's been a year and still Edward is always like the sunshine to me.

He walks in a room and I _know_. I know before I see him, before I hear him, before I smell him because God help me one day I did smell him and I just about dropped to the floor. I swear I got high off one sniff of that spicy, Edward-y warmth. There's nothing in the world like it. I know because I smelled every men's body wash, shampoo, deodorant and cologne I could, looking for it. It's not out there.

It's pure Edward.

Angela goes back to the kitchen to check the cake and Lauren and Jessica go to the car for more supplies. I see a loose letter on the 'Happy 25th Birthday' sign and drag the ladder over. I climb and stretch, realize I've forgotten the tape anyway, when I feel him come in.

This doesn't help my balance.

One foot slips off the rung and I yelp. I can hear Edward's footsteps as he rushes across the room. My fingers lose their grip and I squeal as I slide down the rungs.

Warm hands grab my waist.

"I've got you," he breathes. He puts me down but doesn't let go and I'm cradled for a moment, my back against his strong, wide chest. Adrenaline spikes through my system and I can feel a heartbeat, I can't tell if it's his or mine, pounding quickly. "Damn it, Bella." He spins me and holds me at arm's length, looking me up and down. "Are you alright?"

Angela has come out of the kitchen, hand to chest, chiding me for climbing without a net. Edward winces and tilts my head back.

"Oh ow," Ang says. I can hear her but I'm looking at Edward. He's so close. I can see individual hairs in his stubble, the pretty golden ones around his mouth, the darker ones below his chin. His mouth is fixed in a hard line, his jaw flexing. The furrow between his brows and the dark green angry, yes for some reason angry, eyes. "I'll go find some ice and a bandage," Angela says. I hear Edward tell her where the first aid kit is but I still don't register that I'm hurt. How could I be hurt? I've never felt better.

Edward still has a hand on my waist, holding me in place while he inspects my chin. I must've bumped it on the slide down. I can feel it now, the pulsing heat of the injury. I can also feel how warm Edward is, how gentle his touch is, as he moves my chin from side to side, assessing the damage. I go to touch it to see if it's bleeding but Edward stops me, grasping my hand in his. "Don't. I'll clean it. God knows what kind of shit is on that ladder," he says. His voice is softer now, the furrow between his brow less. "What the fuck were you doing up there?"

He glances around and sees his place, all decked out, for the first time. "Jesus. Bella, you were decorating for..." He looks pissed again and he lets me go. I take my first deep breath since Edward walked into the apartment.

The accidental embrace is over. I tuck it away in my mind with the others to relive later.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading. This is the only chapter I didn't have a song for. Ideas? lol<em>

_WitFit Prompt: Rope_

_Plot Generator – Catch Phrase: Kicking it into high gear._

_Repeat the phrase to yourself five times, open a blank word doc and begin._


	4. New York State of Mind?

_SM owns Twilight. The lovely and talented Aussiegiril101 betas. _

_This and the next chap are EPOV. When I was writing this as a witfit exercise I vowed to write all BPOV. Edward decided to tell me who's boss... it was the prompt. So Edward._

_We jump back in time here. _

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><p>I love New York.<p>

You see that phrase on bumper stickers, t-shirts, splashed across buses and taxis. I really do love New York though, marketing campaign notwithstanding.

I'm in the back of a cab, those iconic yellow islands that ride the tide of the city's traffic. Currently we are floating, sitting at a full stop, two blocks west of Times Square. The sun is sinking behind buildings, pedestrians scurry along the sidewalk. Vendors shout and harass them. Light bounces off building windows creating an artificial lengthening of the day.

The work day is done.

It's time to play.

I have a variety of options in New York City. This is one of the reasons I love it here.

There's Vanessa, socialite. Blonde and pilate-sculpted within an inch of her life. Man, that girl is flexible.

Maybe Louise. Gorgeous redhead. Runs an art gallery near the Met. Teaches _me_ something new every time.

Claudia? Rebecca? Annabeth?

I sigh and look out the window. We've crawled one block from 8th to 7th. At this rate I'll be back at my hotel in... fuck, who knows? I need to make a choice and a phone call soon or risk being alone tonight.

I snort. Out loud.

That's bullshit.

It's not a conceited thing... it's just a fact. I attract a lot of attention. My mother's friends have been slipping me their numbers since I turned 18. Through my college years I became some sort of rite of passage for a few of the sororities.

I was more than happy to oblige.

Occasionally, a girl will capture more than just my cock's attention and I think I could have something more. It never seems to work out. It's not them. It's me.

I like my work, I like my travel. I like my friends back on the west coast living the smaller lives that I thought I was escaping. Recently those small lives looked more appealing.

Or perhaps it's just Bella.

Fuck if that mousy little brunette hasn't gotten under my skin.

It's been about three months since I walked into that ugly bar with its sticky tables and broken mechanical bull and saw her... with Mike of all people. What a place to take a girl on a first date. Mike really is an idiot sometimes. Bella seems to like him though so every time I see Mike I see her.

I wish I could go back three months time and not go into that bar. I fucking hate wanting something I can't have.

On a whim, I decide not to make a phone call. I'm not going to make a date with one of the esteemed, polished, experienced ladies in my contacts. A booty call – a high class one sure, but that's what it would be. I don't want to 'catch up' with any of them.

But I don't want to be alone either.

"Hey, can you pull over here?" I ask the driver. He points to the next intersection. "Yeah, that's fine." I slide a twenty through the slot in the plexiglas divider and tell him to keep the change.

The sidewalk is crowded with tourists, shoppers, and suit-wearing locals making their way home. A bar is what I want, a hotel bar full of lonely strangers.

I walk up half a block, remembering the boutique hotel where I stayed time before last. My long legs stretch as I stride, weaving my way through the slower moving foot traffic. I'm glad I got out and walked a bit, I'd spent too much time sitting today. No wonder I'm so fucking restless. The early evening air is still muggy but will cool down as soon as the sun goes down completely. I like the noise, the horns, the marching tempo of footsteps, the rumble of voices punctuated by a raised voice every once in a while.

The lobby of the hotel is an oasis of calm by comparison. Chicly dim, all white walls and light, natural wood with some sort of nature soundtrack playing at an almost inaudible level. I cross to the bar and am met with a more lively scene. A mix of business people, society ladies and a few stray hipsters who, although they look like hobos off the street, could probably buy and sell us all.

I scan the possibilities. I'm not saying I have a 100% success rate – there are always women who actually respect their wedding vows – but I've gotten pretty good at picking out the type who's looking for what I want too. There's something in the posture, the way their legs are crossed, the way they play with their drink while flicking their eyes around the room.

I see brown hair, long brown hair, and my chest tightens. I know it's not her, it's not Bella, but that's who I want to talk to.

The stool next to her is empty and I slide into it, checking out what's she's drinking. Sometimes, I order the same thing, I'll say, "I'll have what she's having". It breaks the ice, it's a joke and most times we end up talking about 'When Harry Met Sally' for a few minutes but that's fine because then, not only is the ice broken but the girl is already thinking about orgasms. Fake or not.

Unfortunately, she's drinking a Cosmo. I don't care who she is... I'm not ordering a Cosmo.

"Stella, please," I say to the bartender. I glance at the brown-haired girl beside me.

She's pretty, really pretty actually, but in the wrong ways. She's made up, for one, which I never noticed before except Bella doesn't wear make-up and looks as good or better as any of the girls here. This girl's eyes are blue, icy and cold, not the warm brown I've been thinking about. Wrong.

There's an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The bartender brings my beer and I thank him with a nod. Sports play on the TV behind the bar and I direct my gaze there but I'm not paying attention. I drink my beer. Then another one.

I don't even bother introducing myself to the girl who's all wrong.

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><p>Thanks for reading.<p>

Twitter grope to anyone who guesses my muse for this chapter. lol

Chap song: Fake Plastic Trees ~ Radiohead

_WitFit Word Prompt: Traffic_

_A single word meant to inspire immediate thought. Write what your imagination dictates._

I didn't have a song for last chapter but you guys suggested some GREAT ones. Quick list: Ever Fallen in Love by the Buzzcocks (typed Buzzcuts first), Talking Like I'm Falling Down Stairs by Sparkadia, Storm by Lifehouse, Arms by Christina Perri and A Soft Place to Land by Kathleen Edwards.


	5. Why Bella?

_SM owns Twilight. No prompt: Continuation of yesterday's chap. Edward in the bar. And other places. :)_

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><p>The bar activity swirls around me, like one of those movie shots where everyone else is moving at double-time but the main character is static. The eye of the storm. I'm still and silent unless I lift the glass to my lips or raising my hand to order another.<p>

What am I doing? What am I doing mooning over a girl I barely know?

Why Bella?

She's pretty, beautiful even, but that's nothing special, not in my world. Bella doesn't know it though, she has no idea how beautiful she is. This is unique to my experience. Most beautiful women know it and use it as a type of currency... or wield it like a weapon.

Not Bella.

She's gentle too. When she turns those big brown eyes on me, it's all I can do to not rush to her side. Protect her from... everything.

This is crazy.

She's also the complete opposite of the girls I usually date. My type is more...

I bark out a laugh, startling the bartender and the brunette who's all wrong.

"Sorry," I say. I smile to show them I'm not crazy. The bartender eyes my drink but leaves it alone for now and I return to my inner debate.

My type is blonde and sophisticated – or at least experienced. They always have an edge to them. It never works out with 'my type' though,does it? Maybe they're not actually my type after all.

I've barely exchanged a dozen sentences with Bella. When I do talk to her she looks like she's either going to run screaming from the room or rip her clothes off and jump me. Is that it then? Is this just another ego trip?

Is it just because she's with Mike?

This never happens with the other guys. They've all had numerous girlfriends, dates, whatever and I'm nothing but polite to them.

Mike is another matter. It's become some sort of running joke – not a funny one.

When we were 17, I left prom with his date. That was settled with a fist fight two days later which I let him win to save face. We continued being friends like it never happened. Bros before hoes and all that.

When we were 21, I seduced his college girlfriend when she visited during Christmas break. He didn't speak to me for months until I pointed out that I'd actually done him a favour. If the girl was a cheater he was better off knowing before it went further. It was the sort of logic that confounded him so I was welcomed back into the fold.

Just a few months ago, right before he met Bella, Mike was chatting up a girl at the bar. I ended up leaving with her. When he asked me later if I knew that he'd been interested in her, I played dumb. Told him I wasn't going to see her again anyway. I'm not completely sure he believed me.

I don't think our friendship will survive a fourth time.

The noise of the bar is grating on me. I throw bills down and walk through the night to my hotel.

In my room, I pace. I stalk from the door with its peephole and 'In Case of Emergency' information notice across to the picture window overlooking the black carpet that is Central Park.

I turn on the TV, flip through channels and turn it off again.

Why Bella?

I don't know.

I do know I'm never going to get to sleep with all this pent up frustration. I don't like mysteries or ambiguities and Bella Swan is a fucking puzzle wrapped in an enigma and she's driving me crazy.

I head to the bathroom and crank on the shower. I strip as the water heats and steams up the room.

The shower might be my favourite part of staying at the Ritz; it's a huge dark marble space with brushed nickel fixtures, rain showerheads and wall jets. There's even a built-in seat which I've made good use of with one lady or another on previous visits. This time I'm simply hoping the heat of the pounding water will lull me, wash away this feeling... whatever this is.

I step in and turn my face up to the spray. Thinking about previous romps was a bad idea. Now I've got visions of Bella in the shower with me. My cock twitches and comes to life.

What would she be like?

They say it's always the quiet ones. And she's one of the quietest girls I've ever met.

I picture her under the spray, arms stretched up to massage shampoo into her hair. Tension snakes and coils through me, warm down through my belly and legs. Her body's something, I can tell even with her clothes on; long slim legs, perky little tits and a sweet, round ass. Now I wish I could fill in the blanks.

What colour are her nipples?

What's the hair between her legs like?

I'm hard and reach for the conditioner, slather some on my hand and grip myself.

Fuck, what would her soft hand feel like on me?

I close my eyes and stroke. I picture big brown eyes staring at me, full pink lips open and panting. I put my other hand against the wall, bracing myself and stroke again. I imagine what Bella would feel like warm and wet pressed against me.

How would I take her in here?

I open my eyes and look at the bench seat. So fucking easy to bend her over that, push into her from behind...

I grip and stroke and let the hot shower water flow over me.

God, I bet she's tight, I bet she moans and...

My head swims with alcohol, the heat of the shower and the thought of Bella beneath me. No, not like that. I'd want to see her. I'd want to look into her eyes and suck on her lips while I fucked her. Against the shower wall. Right here. I'd wrap her legs around my waist and fuck her right here.

Slowly. In and out.

Bella's hot and wet, inside and out. I slide in and out of her gripping heat over and over.

My hand mimics the action, it's building so quickly.

The water rains from above, streaming over my head, my shoulders, flowing down my back. I can't keep track of what's water and what's Bella fantasy. She's fucking dripping everywhere.

Bella's arms are around my neck, raking through my hair. She gasps, I've actually heard her make that sound so the accuracy of it makes me even harder. Her head falls back and her wet hair is streaming around her in long black ribbons. I move faster, I want to make her gasp again.

Bella pulls back and wiggles so I put her down. She drops to her knees in front of me with the most devilish smirk I've ever seen. Her brown eyes lock with mine, sparkling with lust. She wants this as badly as I do.

"Bella," I say. My hand is moving faster still. Bella's sweet pink lips open wide and take in my whole length. She sucks me, hard, and hums and I groan and pant her name as I pump in and out of her mouth. I'm lost in the sensation and the heat and the mounting pressure and chasing the release...

"Fuck. Bella. Bella..." I grunt as I come.

I stand under the shower's spray, panting at first, my breathing slowing after a few moments. I'm coming down from my high, Bella fading away like the edges of a fucking fantastic dream the moment you wake. The shower is thick with steam and I try to hold on to the fantasy.

I'm alone. Relaxed yes, but alone. She's not here.

Bella. Sweet, gentle Bella.

I soap up, wash my hair, thinking about what I'm going to do. I remember a recent conversation with the guys while watching Sunday afternoon football. They'd been comparing the strengths and weaknesses of their girlfriends.

"Bella's great, she's hot, you'd be surprised. Her weakness?" Mike had breathed through his nose, thinking. "She doesn't really like giving head," Mike had leered and reached for his beer. "She'll come around. It's non-negotiable."

Just remembering his laugh makes my skin crawl. And makes me realize I wasn't really thinking about Bella. Bella wouldn't have kneeled and sucked me like that. It was an imaginary Bella. I don't really know her at all. She's Mike's.

I'm just going to have to figure out how to leave her the fuck alone.

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><p><em>Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! lol <em>

_Thanks Aussiegirl101 for beta-ing. Thank YOU for reading. _

_Chap song: C'mere by Interpol_


	6. Does he?

_SM owns Twilight. Mega thanks to Aussiegirl101 for beta'ing. _

_I loved hearing your varied responses to Edward. We're back to Bella's POV now and another time jump. This is about six months after Bella and Mike start dating. _

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><p>"C'mon?"<p>

"No."

"Please? For me?"

"Mike, I really don't want to."

My eyes are closed against the glare of the sun but I hear Mike breathe through his nose in defeat.

"Okay," he says. "You're sure you're not bored? I'm glad you came along but if I'd known you were afraid of the water I would've..." I can feel Mike roll over on the blanket beside me as the sand shifts below us.

"You would've what?" I laugh and roll too so we're facing each other on propped elbows. "Made everyone go bowling? Don't be ridiculous. It's a beautiful day... I'm not bored. I promise." Mike pulls a face but he's just teasing. He would be bored sitting anywhere for more than five minutes in a row but he knows I'm fine with some down time. I've brought enough reading material for three days, everything from gossip rags to Ulysses which I've always meant to read but never got around to.

Mike's baby blues flash at me. He leans in and kisses my cheek, my nose and then my lips. He drags a hand along my bare thigh and toys with the elastic of my bikini bottom. A sweet little shiver rolls through me.

It's nice. Everything with Mike is always nice.

"Get a room!"

"No way! Get 'er, Mike!"

Mike pulls away and we both laugh. The screeches and splashing coming from the water are more fitting to a bunch of fourteen years olds than twenty-four year olds.

The cove water is warm-ish, or so I'm told. I won't even dip my toes. The sun is more than warm though. It's soaking into my skin and spreading a quiet kind of peace throughout me. The sky is that deep azure you only really see near the ocean and, even if I don't go in the water, I can smell it and feel the salty breeze. Good enough.

The bright light of the sun is bouncing off the sand, the water. It's almost blinding. Mike appears haloed.

The golden boy.

That's how everyone at home sees him.

Mike's looking at me intently and I squirm a little under his gaze, digging my toes through the sand, from the hot to the cool. Even after six months together I can seldom tell what he's thinking when he's quiet like this. My hair is in a high ponytail but strands have escaped. The wind whips them against my face. Mike reaches up and tucks hair behind my ear. His hand lingers on my cheek and I lean into it.

"I love you, Bella," he says. My breath catches. It's not the first time he's said it, but he doesn't say it often.

"I love you too," I say. I mean it. I do love him. There's a small line between his brows like he's thinking something through. Or worrying. "What is it?" I ask.

Mike sighs and rolls to his back, arms behind his head and I do the same. A few clouds mar the span of blue, two white puffs chasing a smaller one across the sky.

"I guess I'm just tense when Edward's around you. I mean, he hasn't tried anything," Mike says. "Has he?" He looks at me and I don't like his expression or tone. Suspicious. Paranoid.

I'm not going to feel guilty for my thoughts. They're just thoughts and I can't even help them. Edward is hardly around anyway, it's really not an issue. And Edward has never laid a hand on me except...

To help me with my coat when it's clear Mike's not going to.

To take groceries from me before I drop them.

To, very occasionally, brush against my shoulder or back as he's passing. But people do that. Ang does that when she's passing close by. It's nothing.

"No, of course not," I say. I feel defensive. I don't like it. "Where is this all coming from?" I can hear the edge in my voice.

Mike sits up and leans over me, blocking the sun. "It's nothing," he says, echoing my own thought. He smiles suddenly and mutters something but I only catch the word 'bastard' and 'brunette'. I've heard enough about the girl history between Mike and Edward from Angela to connect the dots.

"Mike," I begin slowly because I don't like where this conversation is going. "Did you start dating me because I was..." I can't even find the words, "some sort of Edward- repellent?" This hurts in more ways than one. Mike is shaking his head.

"No, Bella. No," he denies. I don't know what to believe. I hate the idea that Mike 'selected' me based on past disappointments. I hate the idea that I'm so completely not what Edward would ever want. And I really hate that I care about that. I don't feel worthy of either of them at the moment.

Mike is kissing my face again, stroking my wind-blown hair back. "No, baby. I promise. It was you. Sweet, funny, little you." He backs up and looks at me. "Do you believe me?" He sounds sincere. He looks sorry. I nod. I don't want to be the one to ruin the day with pouting. "You're sure?" Mike lifts my chin and searches my eyes.

"I'm sure," I say. Has there ever been a bigger lie spoken? I'm not sure of anything. "Go on," I say, injecting as much playfulness into my voice as I can. I reach up and ruffle his hair and he laughs. He likes that I never hold grudges. "Go play with your friends." Mike rolls to his stomach, does a few push-ups and jumps to his feet.

He's still blocking the sun. I can hardly make out his features. He runs off, joining the water Frisbee game with a jump and a splash.

Edward comes out of the water and walks slowly, dripping his way up the beach. Mike's stuck; he can't come running out without looking like he suspects something. His ego won't allow that, not in front of his friends. _My_ ego would love to think that Edward's waited for an opportunity to talk to me. I know that's not true. Those occasional tiny touches were nothing. It's all in my head and it's not fair to Mike at all.

I'm a silly, delusional girl who doesn't know how lucky she is.

I sigh and push my sunglasses up my nose. I shouldn't even look at Edward. Dripping, wet, sunshine Edward.

How can I not?

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><p><em>Thanks for reading.<em>

_Word Prompt: Upset_

_Dialogue Flex: "I'm not sure I can fix this," she said._

_Chap Song: What a Good Boy ~ Barenaked Ladies_


	7. What do you want?

_SM owns Twilight. I have mad love for Ms Aussiegirl101 and her beta skills. Equal parts educational and entertaining. LOVE. Marina, the boardshorts are burgundy. What other colour could they be? ;)_

_This picks up exactly where last chap left off. "Dripping, wet, sunshine Edward" coming out of the water. (cue NM strut music)_

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><p>I watch Edward approach. I keep my face tilted slightly the opposite way. With my eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses I could be looking at the children climbing on the rocks or the line-up at the small concession stand.<p>

Reality? I am drinking him in.

I heard Jess say that Edward is proof God is a woman. I tend to think Edward isn't so much a heavenly creature as an agent of the devil.

He looks like sin.

It's not enough that he's walking straight toward me, half-naked and with water streaming in sun-lit rivulets down his torso and legs. My mind has slowed the whole thing down so all I need is for Edward to start shaking his head back and forth to dry out his hair and I'd have my own personal beer commercial.

All the guys are wearing board shorts and all of them have them slung low on their hips but Edward is the only one to do the look justice. Jesus Christ, that sexy 'V'. He's toned but not ripped. The perfect amount of hair, clinging with damp, is spread in a dark golden smattering between tiny, dark nipples and trailing down out of sight. Better women than me would be tempted to yell "take it off". As it is I realize my mouth is full of drool.

I don't look at the water but I know Mike is watching. And I'll be damned if sexy-ass, half-naked Edward Cullen is going to ruin a perfectly nice day at the beach.

I rummage through my bag and come up with a book, any book, and open it to a random page. Edward flops down on the blanket beside me. A few drops of water drip onto my stomach and I suck in a breath through my teeth.

"Sorry," he says. He doesn't sound sorry at all. He's on his stomach and I'm on my back. I can feel him looking at me. He's so close.

Too close.

"No problem," I say. I'm impressed. I _sound _cool and casual. Outwardly, I am sunbathing and completely absorbed by my book. Really though, I don't see a word on the page. It's impossible to concentrate with Edward so near. He's literally in the space Mike just inhabited. My mind is a very confused, conflicted place at the moment.

Gulls dip and shriek overhead. I can smell the coconut scent of the sunscreen Mike has rubbed into my back and shoulders.

"So, Eric and Angela. Engaged," Edward says. He sounds incredulous.

"Yep," I reply. They announced it a week ago. I'm happy for them, they're perfect together. You can see it in the way they look at each other, the way Ang talks about him. There's no doubt they belong together.

"Is that where you and Mike are headed, you figure?" Edward says, startling me. It feels like there's a tiny earthquake rumbling beneath me. I realize it's my heart hammering and vibrating through my back against the ground. I look at him, I can't help it.

His back is beautiful. Muscles ripple beneath smooth skin and it's all I can do to not reach out and touch. His hair is wet and dark, flopping over his forehead. He lays his head down on folded arms and gazes at me through sleepy-looking eyes. I'm much, much warmer than can be accounted for by the balmy weather.

"It's only been six months," I say. I'm stalling; it's exactly where we're headed. The day after Eric and Angela told us they were getting married, Mike told me about his five year plan.

Graduate on time. Check.

Restructure the family business. Check.

Buy a house. Check.

Get married.

And so on...

He's got it all planned out.

It's what my parents did. It's what his parents did. You go to school, you get a job. Maybe you date a bit but the whole process is meant to lead you to where Ang and Eric are. Settling down, building a life together. A house, children, vacations... The cycle repeats every generation. It's comforting, it's predictable, it's expected.

"Yeah, but is that what you want?" Edward asks. Damn, if he's able to read minds I'm in _big_ trouble. I put my book down.

"I guess. Isn't that the point of all this?" I wave a hand back and forth between the ocean and myself. I haven't thought about what I want. I didn't think that was very important.

"Not for me!" he says. He sounds horrified and I laugh.

"I know, Edward. I know," I say. I take off my sunglasses and use the edge of the blanket to rub off smudges. I'm still giggling at the notion of Edward picking out a ring and getting down on one knee in front of one blonde or another. I look at him, grinning. He grins back and then his gaze flickers along my bikini-clad body.

I can't handle it. I can't handle his eyes on my bare skin when he's this close and I've imagined this very look on his face when I fantasize about him. Our eyes meet and I'm so confused by what I see in those dark green eyes. My head spins and I have to look away.

It's not confusing at all really. Edward does this. He goes after the girls who are with Mike. This has nothing to do with me.

I pick my book back up and roll to my side. If Edward wants to look he can get an eyeful of my ass. If Mike looks he'll see I'm not paying Edward any mind. And maybe I'll be able to pull myself together.

"Irina seems... nice," I say. I sound snider than I mean to. I glance toward the water and see a near white head of hair. "Is it me, Edward? Or are they getting blonder?"

Edward roars with laughter and I let the sound rush over me. It's not just his looks. I like listening when he talks. His life is so different from what any of us are doing. My ears perk up when I hear his name is mentioned. He's like a real life celebrity crush who shows up randomly and sends me into a tizzy.

We chat more. We talk about movies and music. I keep my back to him but imagine I feel his eyes on me from time to time. I talk about work, he talks about work.

"My company wants me to transfer to the New York office. I'm out there so much anyway," Edward says. There's something in his voice. I realize I've never heard him sound unsure about anything.

"What? You don't want to go?" I ask. "New York sounds amazing, you always say how much you love it there." I roll to my back so I can see him again. I watch his shoulder muscles tense and release as he shrugs.

He's lying on his back now, eyes closed, face turned to the sun.

"I'm weighing my options. Thinking about what I'd be leaving behind if I moved," his voice is softer than I've ever heard it. I didn't realize he'd gotten so close to Irina. I ignore the tiny stab I feel at the thought.

A Frisbee whizzes past our heads and Eric runs by to get it. The three little clouds from earlier have been joined by others. It's going to be a beautiful sunset.

Edward changes the subject. "So, first Ang and Eric. Next year... you and Mike? Married?"

I think about our parents and sweet Mike and our friends and my job at the bank. I see security and acceptance. "Well, he hasn't asked... yet," I hedge. "It's what people do," I say.

"Fuck that," Edward says. His voice is hard.

"Excuse me?"

Edward sighs and throws his arm over his eyes. "You get one life, Bella. One chance. I'm not living it based on my parents' expectations or out-dated social customs. It's good enough for some people, I guess - but not for me. I think you want more too. You talk about places you want to go, things you want to see, yet you're buying into this tiny world. Think for yourself. What do _you_ want?"

I'm shocked speechless for a moment. I've never heard Edward talk like this. It's too much to think about all at once. "I... I... I don't know," I stammer. I don't know what's happening.

Edward sits up. He pushes his hair off his forehead and squints into the bright light. "I think I'm going to go to New York." I can't decipher his tone.

Why does it seem like he's just made that decision?

Edward's speech has planted a seed, I can feel it taking root. I don't know yet what will grow from it.

Fragile flowers.

A mighty tree.

A weed that will smother everything.

Everybody is coming out of the water, clouds are rolling in fast and I start packing up the bags and coolers.

And just like that my day in the sun is over.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading. Chap song: Sun King ~ The Beatles (Gah! Seriously, that song with pics of wet Robward. Slow gifs. Dear Lord. Treat yourselves ladies)<em>

_Word Prompt: Punish_

_Plot Generator—Idea Completion: Seeking approval._

_An idea or concept is presented. Follow where it leads you._


	8. Will it fit?

_SM owns Twilight. Aussiegirl101 betas me into submission. _

_Do. Not. Throw things at me... _

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><p>"Damn, it still won't button up. Your shoulders are too wide, Bella."<p>

Mike's mom walks around me in a slow circle, eyeing the fit of the dress.

Mike proposed the day after Angela and Eric's wedding. I happily accepted. We set a date and started planning. The family heirloom dress was worn by Mike's cousin, Amanda, six months ago in Toledo. From there, the dress was sent to another cousin in Kansas before finally making its way here a week ago where the first attempt to make it fit began.

The dressmaker was pessimistic.

"This girl is not to be fitting in this dress," she said in her thick accent. Mike's mom huffed. She was used to getting her way and instructed the dressmaker to do whatever she could to make it fit.

I don't like the dress but that's not important. Every bride in Mike's mother's family has worn this dress for their wedding since 1952.

They've let out the sides and hem as much as possible but at fitting number two we still can't get the buttons done up the back.

"Can you add panels, Sophia? Along the back here?" Mrs Newton asks. The dressmaker shakes her head and removes pins from her mouth.

"No. See here, the lace?" She draws her finger along the lacy bib that hangs in a 'V' front and back. "You cannot be altering this design. She simply does not fit. The end." Sophia turns from Mrs Newton dismissively. I like Sophia immensely. "I make something else for you, Bella. Something you look good in," she chucks me under the chin. I smile at the sympathy in her eyes.

Mike's mom ignores her completely. She's tugging gently at the fabric at the back. "Could you lose a few pounds, Bella? You have to fit into this – it's our tradition," her voice is a whine. I'd never noticed before.

I don't need to lose weight, at all. I'm taller than the women in her family but not fat. I glance at my mom hoping for back up.

She's looking me up and down, darting her own nervous glance at Mrs Newton. She's not wringing her hands but it looks like she'd like to. Mom has been completely overpowered by the force of the Newtons. The wedding venue, guest list, menu... mom and I were asked our opinion – but Mrs Newton always made the final decision.

"Perhaps a few pounds wouldn't hurt?" mom says.

Et tu brute?

So much for mama bear. She might as well roll over and play dead. I guess that's where I get it from.

I feel different today though, everyday actually. Ever since that lunch with Edward last week... everything feels different.

Could be cold feet; the wedding is only weeks away now.

Could be Edward and his crazy confession. His insane offer.

If I were a guy I'd be telling myself to grow a pair and make up my mind. Being who I am... I'm going with the flow. I'm being towed along but I can feel the change coming. I'm changing.

I look at myself in the mirror. The lace is itchy and the high neck is strangling me. I don't like this dress and it doesn't fit me. It's not _going_ to fit me.

I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I don't know what I'm going to decide. But I know I'm running out of time.

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><p><em>Link to the dress on my profile. Thanks for reading. Oh that was kind of a short chapter, wasn't it? Witfit's fault. I should think about posting another chapter today. Let me know if that's something you'd be interested in... it's the lunch with Edward mentioned in this chapter. <em>

_Chap song: It's a fun one... Sound of Settling by Death Cab for Cutie (bites fist) _

_Witfit Word Prompt: Knife_

_Plot Generator—Binding Blurb: In 500 words or fewer, write a blurb or a short entry on suffering in silence._


	9. Is it real?

_SM owns Twilight. Thank you to Aussiegirl101 for not laughing at some of the horrific errors in these chapters. Well, not laughing too much. _

_You guys rock. Thanks for all your great comments... you have spoken and indeed would like another chapter today. Enjoy! _

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><p>"Uh, Bella? Could you come out here?" I frown at my intercom. Sharon's tone is off. Usually she runs the bank's reception desk with all the confidence of a drill sergeant but just now she sounds very nervous.<p>

Jesus. Are we being robbed?

My intercom lights up again and Sharon clarifies. "There's... someone here to see you." Her voice is a hiss, I can barely hear her. Again with the tone; is it awe? Is it horror? I don't know but I'm half-expecting my visitor to be Santa... or the Grim Reaper.

I peer through the glass wall of my office in vain and curse softly. Why do I have the only office that can't see the reception desk?

Curiosity piqued, I stand, smooth wrinkles from my skirt, push hair that's escaped from my bun behind my ears and shove my glasses back up my nose. I open the door, round the corner into the main area and look at the reception desk.

Of course it's Edward.

He's casual in jeans and boots and plaid. Dark golden stubble highlights the line of his jaw and his hair is completely, perfectly untamed. He looks so out of place surrounded by the dingy, out-dated decor of the bank. Like the sun unexpectedly shining in a dark cave.

My throat tightens up and something flutters warmly through my stomach and lower. Always. He always does this to me.

I figure he's passing through – Edward makes the trip from Seattle to Forks once a month or so to see his parents and Mike and the guys. That is when he's here... in this state. He worked in New York for a while, came back, spent some months in Chicago, came back again. He's always leaving or returning. Edward can't settle to anything it seems.

He probably needs a cash advance. Or maybe he lost his debit card. There is no other logical reason for Edward to be in this tiny bank in Port Angeles asking for me. I didn't realize he even knew I worked here.

Edward turns then and sees me. His face lights up, he grins and his green eyes flash at me. I stagger, only slightly, but still it's a physical impact. Sharon looks quickly between us and then mutters something about the photocopier and rushes away. I'm at work and I default to work behaviour.

"Can I help you with something, Edward?" His grin grows wider and he shakes his head. My stomach does a slow flip.

"I'm not here for banking purposes," he says. There's a glint in his eye, excitement and something else. He's drumming his fingers on the desk, his leg is bouncing. Nervous energy is pouring off of him in waves and it's affecting me too. "I need to talk to you, Bella." His voice is low and my name on his lips is hypnotic. He blinks and the glint in his eye is gone. Like a twist of the kaleidoscope and his eyes are different again. The intensity is still there and the air between us fairly crackles with it.

"Is something wrong?" I ask. He shakes his head again but I'm not reassured by it. We both look around and seem to realize at the same time that we're not alone.

"Come to lunch with me." His eyes are unreadable. I remind myself to breathe.

Edward needs to talk to me.

"I'll get my coat."

It's bright but cool outside and we walk briskly, talking about the weather, the traffic. The restaurant is a tiny Italian place, it's dark and warm and we both sigh in relief and then laugh lightly. Edward holds out my chair.

I wait. Tension builds and I can't tell if it's me or him. I never trust my perception around Edward.

He's fussing and it would be amusing if I weren't dying of curiosity. He leafs through the menu, rearranges his cutlery. He looks at me and smiles. Looks down at his hands, looks out the window at the cars passing by.

He's still silent. This is novel. And unpleasant.

I search for a benign opening. "How's Kate?" I ask. Edward's head snaps up.

"We broke up. Two days ago." He frowns.

"I'm sorry Edward. She was nice... she lasted longer than most too," I say. I groan internally and wish I could kick myself. What an insensitive thing to say. The poor guy probably came to me to talk about Kate. Maybe he wants a girl's advice on how to get her back or something.

I can feel him staring at me but I can't meet his eyes. The silence is back and it's choking me. I'm never cool around Edward and I have no idea how to handle this new emotional, intense version of him.

The waitress brings us water and asks if we're ready to order. Edward looks at me and I point at something on the menu knowing if I'm able to eat at all I won't be tasting it anyway. He tells the waitress he'll have what I'm having and I cough out a nervous laugh because it reminds me of _When Harry Met Sally._

Edward blushes. Edward Cullen fucking blushes right in front of me. I can feel my eyes widen in disbelief. What the hell is going on?

The waitress moves off and I can't stand one more second. "What? What is it, Edward?"

He looks at me and it's different. I can see it and feel it. I just don't understand it. "You look really nice. I meant to tell you that but I didn't. I've never seen you all dressed up for work," Edward clears his throat and sits up straighter. "You got this whole 'sexy librarian' thing going on," he finishes with another grin. I'm absurdly pleased. And warm. Jesus Christ I am warm.

I work at a bank but I studied to be a teacher. I've worked with kids and I have a go-to 'I mean business' face and I use it on him now. He breathes a laugh and needlessly straightens his cutlery again. "Okay, okay," he chants. I watch the movement of his chest as he breathes in deep and blows it out slowly. His eyes meet mine again and all trace of humour is gone.

"I know I've left it too late. I was trying to be good, you know? For once, I was doing the right thing. But then I realized I was doing the same thing as you, just letting things happen, and it's not right. And I didn't know at first what it was, I didn't know. This doesn't happen to me..." Edward trails off and looks out the window again. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration.

My heart is in my throat and I don't know why.

"You know I have no idea what you're talking about," I say. He winces.

"I've imagined this conversation a hundred times, Bella. And I still don't know where to start." His eyes are kaleidoscopes again.

Sad.

Hopeful.

Excited.

Around and around the inexplicable emotions flash. I stare into them, willing him to spit it out. Edward leans forward. He reaches across the table and puts his hand on mine. "I think I'm in love with you."

Clearly I'm hearing things.

"What?" I ask. He smiles and squeezes my hand.

"I said... I'm in love with you."

I'm very glad I'm sitting down. I don't believe him, of course. But those words coming from his lips while he looks at me like that...

"You're crazy," I manage. I smile to let him know I know he's messing with me and it's alright, no hard feelings. He can never know what he does to me. How badly I wish this was real. He's still holding my hand and I pull mine back. It tingles and pulses. I imagine it detaching itself from me and crawling across the table to touch Edward again.

"Oh, I'm crazy all right." He rolls his eyes. "I'm not kidding though. I feel like an idiot to be honest." The waitress arrives with our food. One look at us and she has the lay of the land, deposits the plates and is away without a word. We push the plates to the side. Neither of us is even going to pretend to eat.

"Why an idiot?" I whisper. Because it's me? I get that. What sort of idiot would fall for me? Mike excluded. Or perhaps Edward thinks Mike's an idiot too.

"Because I didn't recognize what this was. You feel it too, don't you?" He looks unsure of himself suddenly. He reaches again but my hands are in my lap. Edward touches my cheek instead and I can't help myself, I lean into his hand. If I were a cat I'd be purring.

I do make some sound. A strangled whimper, a muffled moan.

Yes. I feel it.

He's right though. It's too late. Way too late. I shake off his hand and lift my chin.

"I'm engaged. The wedding is less than a month away. You shouldn't be saying this to me," I know I'm saying the wrong things too. I should be declaring my undying love for Mike. I should be telling Edward he's barking up the wrong tree. I should slap him or get up and leave.

But I can't.

Edward's green eyes are boring into mine. He knows. "You can't marry him Bella. Not if you feel like this about me." I can't think straight when he looks at me like that.

"There are all different kinds of love. I do love him," I'm still whispering. I don't dare look around to see who's here. Who might potentially be watching this insane, intense conversation. Edward's face relaxes and his eyes go soft.

"You just admitted that you love me, you know," he says. Did I? Doesn't matter.

I do. I do love him.

God, help me.

Now I'm the silent one. It's too late. Too late.

I'm not the kind of girl to run out on her fiancé. I'm not the type to let down entire families who have put non-refundable deposits on a hall and caterers and a honeymoon. Edward watches my face and I wonder what I look like to him.

Indecisive, apparently.

"I can see what you're thinking," he says. "You are worried about everyone else... what they would think, what they would say. Fuck that. Bella..." Edward looks serious and a bit sad. "I have to tell you everything though. I'm not like Mike. I'm not into white picket fences and official pieces of paper. I don't know if I ever want to get married. I don't know if I want kids." His words hang in the air between us. He's fisting his hair again. He looks wretched and for the first time I notice the dark circles beneath his eyes and the vertical crease between them.

I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. I am at a complete loss.

Edward isn't done yet. "It's up to you. I don't know what you really want... you seem happy but I... I don't know, maybe I'm deluding myself. This? Between us?" He looks into his glass of water. "I'm sorry. I had to tell you. And I'll fight for you, if that's what you want. I can't give up now. Not now that I know." He takes a sip and seems to pull himself together. "I'm done trying to be good."

His words seem almost taunting. A challenge. He's been _good_? "What exactly do you think is going to happen here?" I hiss at him. I'm almost angry. Not quite. My imagination is filling in the blanks of what being with Edward would be like.

Heaven. He could be mine to touch and kiss and love. Until he leaves that is. Because he always leaves them.

Me. He would leave me. Eventually.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" I ask again.

Edward looks devilish now. The snake in the Garden of Eden with his tempting offer. This is the Edward I'm familiar with.

Seductive.

Adventurous.

Irresistible.

"Run away with me, Bella," he says. His voice is a low murmur. I gasp and this seems to encourage him. He leans over the table and holds my gaze. I wonder if I'm even capable of looking away. "Anywhere you want to go. We'll stay away – together - as long as you want. Until things die down here... and they will. I swear," he's using that voice, the charming one. "Run away with me."

I can picture myself just saying 'yes', walking out of this restaurant, away from my life and going wherever Edward wants to take me.

Edward wants me. To take me.

I can't. I hate that I can't.

I hate that I can't remember why I can't.

Oh right. Mike.

Mike.

Fragments of memory slide into place. Mike. Edward. Girls.

Mike's college girlfriend. Edward saying it was better to know she was a cheater before Mike got more involved with her.

I'm no longer warm. I'm cold. My hands shake and I ball them into fists.

I don't know if Mike's in on it or if Edward's gone rogue. I'd be the biggest prize yet. I've been many things in my life but a fool isn't one of them. My stomach churns and I think how lucky it is that I didn't eat.

I jump to my feet, pulling the table cloth in the process. Dishes and glasses tremble but mercifully don't fall.

"What?" Edward is on his feet too. He's reaching for me but I back away. I stumble. He grabs me by the arms to keep me from falling and I could cry.

It would be so easy to cry.

"I have to go," I mutter to the floor.

Edward is holding me by the shoulders, he's leaning down, trying to get me to meet his eye. But I won't. "Sharon said you had an hour for lunch," he says. He sounds confused. Good. So am I.

"I'm not hungry," I say. I put my hands on his chest and push, gently. _Let me go_. He does. I can feel how reluctantly he does it. I waver again. It would be so easy to believe him.

I want so badly to believe him.

"Please don't go. Bella? Not like this," he's begging. He sounds sincere but this is always how it is with Edward. I always see and hear what I want.

He sighs. He helps me with my coat and throws bills on the table. "Let me walk you back," he says. I shake my head. "I'm not giving up. This is too important... Bella, you're making a mistake."

I turn and walk out. Tears sting. My throat burns with them. He's right. No matter what happens now I know I'll be making a mistake.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading.<em>

_Chapter song: Whistle for the Choir by The Fratellis (this is a top ten favourite song of mine - it finds its way onto every playlist I make._

_Word Prompt: Eavesdrop _

_Dialogue Flex: "No thanks, I'm trying to cut back," she said._

_Using the provided snippet of dialogue, explore what comes to mind, be it a scene, a thought, or something else._


	10. Like this?

_SM owns Twilight. Thank you to Aussiegirl101 for not only beta-ing but cheerleading as well. She probably wishes I put a comma in the previous sentence. _

_I can't tell you how much I'm loving your comments. Whether they are driving you crazy or you feel protective of them, they are speaking to you. So I'm happy. :) _

_There is no more jumping around in time, we are linear now. Enjoy. _

* * *

><p>There are flowers delivered to the bank every day now. Some days it's a single blossom, others, tiny bouquets made up of flowers I can't identify. It's Sharon who has the idea to look them up – she tells me each flower has a meaning. There's a whole language I didn't know about. These fragile little blossoms deliver Edward's messages.<p>

_I dreamed of love, of loving you. _

_I'm fascinated by you. _

_I'm devoted. I'm passionate. _

I place the flowers around the bank, at the cash desk, reception, the teller wickets. Never in my office.

The day after the wedding gown debacle there are travel brochures with the flowers. I get the impression Edward would like to go somewhere warm. I like the idea of endless days on the beach, endless nights in his arms. Anywhere.

_The Bahamas_

_Paris_

_Tahiti_

Edward calls my phone but I don't answer when I see his number. He leaves messages. He leaves sweet messages, desperate messages, encouraging messages. His voice slides from the phone to my ear and under my skin. I can feel the sincerity of his words. I'm not ready to talk yet... but I am ready to listen.

_I'm thinking about you._

_I love you._

_I'm here Bella, I'm waiting. I'm trying to be patient but you're scaring me. Please tell me you're thinking about... what we talked about. I'm wondering where we'll go. Somewhere warm I hope? It's up to you though. Anywhere you want._

_I love you._

_I'm sorry if I'm messing things up for you. No. No I'm not. I want you. I can't pretend I don't. _

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you. _

I listen to each message until I have it memorised and then carefully delete it.

I'm aware that I'm a woman being heavily wooed by her fiancé's friend. I'm not proud of myself. Edward's attention is heady, addictive. I don't know how to give him up.

We talk on the phone only once. I see his number and I want to hear his voice so badly that I answer.

"Bella!" I can hear the smile in his voice. The smile and the worry. Whether this is all real or a put on I know Edward isn't used to not getting what he wants.

"Hi Edward."

"Meet me? Please? Bella we need to talk more."

"No. I can't."

"Bella, you're running out of time. Sweetheart, the longer you wait the worse it's going to be."

He called me 'sweetheart'. And I let him.

"This weekend," I say. It's Thursday. I hear him blow out a breath and I feel relieved too.

The next day is, of course, Friday.

There are no flowers.

There are no travel brochures.

I miss them. It's my first taste of having Edward and then not having Edward. It hurts.

At four o'clock, there is a delivery. A small, narrow box tied up with a white ribbon. Inside is the most exquisite little charm dangling from a long silver chain. It's a tiny silver hourglass, the size of my thumbnail, an actual working one with grains of sand. I put the necklace on and turn the hourglass over and over in my hand.

There is no card. None is necessary.

###

Mike has the guys over most Friday nights. They watch sports and play poker and drink until they pass out in the 'man cave'. Reliving their frat house days, I suppose.

On these occasions, I hide upstairs in our bedroom and watch chick flicks I've missed because Mike won't watch them. Usually there's wine involved. It's nice and quiet and tonight, more than ever, I need the time to think.

It's two weeks until the wedding. A suitable dress has been bought "off-the-rack" and is being altered to fit. I'm beyond conflicted but have no one to talk to. Except, ironically, Edward.

On the one hand... I do love Mike. I like the life he's planned out and I'm flattered, honoured even, that he's chosen me to share it with him. It's safe and comfortable and two years ago it was all I'd ever dreamed of. He's a wonderful guy and if there isn't passion there is friendship and respect and there are marriages built on much less. We could work.

On the other hand... Edward. Edward and the kind of life that I didn't think was even possible for me. He makes me feel brave and reckless and I know there would be no lack of passion. For as long as it lasted anyway.

This isn't about one hand or the other hand. It's about thinking with my head or my heart.

I sigh. _All around the mulberry bush the monkey chased the weasel..._

There isn't a right and wrong here. There's just a choice.

What do I want?

I don't know.

As I fall asleep I realize that _is _the answer.

###

I'm on the edge of a dream, that strange half-awake state where the impossible seems real and the real all too impossible. The room is warm and I've thrown off the bedding in my sleep. I stretch and curl back up on my side, drifting on the edge of sleep.

The bed shifts and I roll to the side to make room. Mike usually stays downstairs with the guys, they crash on sofas and the floor. The room stinks for days afterward.

A hand strokes my arm, slow and soft, from my shoulder to my elbow and back again. I roll to my back and lips are on me – a kiss on my cheek, another on my neck. A hand in my hair is warm and demanding.

I want to tell Mike 'no'. I'm too twisted up inside, I'm half-asleep.

But it feels so good. And I'm not thinking about Mike.

Lips trail back up, along the line of my jaw and I hum in contentment. My own hands stroke shoulders, roam up to tangle in silky, soft hair.

Mike's hair is spiky. Gelled and spiked and crunchy.

"Edward," I gasp.

I don't let him go.

His mouth is on mine, insistent, hot, needy and I'm awake, I'm awake. Tongues touch, lips tease and taste and I'm shaking below him. He holds me tighter, groaning my name against my neck, into my mouth.

"Bella, Bella."

His voice is rough, ragged with need and want. He _sounds _the way I feel inside – raw and desperate - and I can't deny him anything anymore. I don't want to deny him anything.

We kiss. It's deep and devouring and decadent. Better than I've imagined. Edward tastes sweet, like the beer he must've been drinking downstairs and something else, something delicious that must just be him. His hands are on my face, in my hair and he stops to pull back and look at me.

I wish it wasn't so dark. The only light is from the street lamp outside the window.

Edward is a silhouette. A shadow.

A gasping, solid, hot-as-hell, shadow hovering over me.

Perhaps I am dreaming after all.

He kisses me again, more forcefully, and I'm pressing myself against him. I can feel how hard he is. I want more.

I want everything.

We kiss and gasp together. Heat rises and bubbles inside me. He stops and looks at me again. Light shines and I can see his eyes, his smile. His thumb strokes under my eye and on my bottom lip. He kisses me again and his hand is on my breast. It feels so good and I arch up to show him I'm his, I'm all his.

I know now I always was.

He's gentle and forceful in turns – palming my breast and then tweaking my nipple. Running his tongue along my bottom lip and then nipping me there. I'm writhing already. His breath is hot on my neck. When Edward kisses my breast, I can feel the heat of it through the fabric of my tank top.

I'm touching him too, his arms, his hair, tracing his face with my fingers. I forget where I am, who I am. There is only Edward and his magical lips and his mystical fingers which have found their way lower.

I whimper and press closer, my legs spread for him. I pull him to me.

"Kiss me, kiss me." I don't realize I'm saying it out loud.

Edward is panting along with me. There's a desperate edge to him and I know now how wrong I was.

He meant it. He loves me.

His fingers slide along the top of my thigh, toys with the edge of my panties. I whimper again, I'm close to begging for something, anything to ease the ache between my legs. He palms me, the heel of his hand pressing where I'm most sensitive, his fingers circling my opening through the fabric. I can feel how wet I am.

Edward groans. It's almost a sob. Maybe it's me. I'm lost in all he's doing to me, all he makes me feel and I'm on the edge already.

He's buried his face in my neck, kissing and licking and sucking on my shoulder. His hand rubs slow circles and I buck hard against him, crying out.

"I love you, Bella. Please. Please." His voice rips me apart. He's not begging for this. He's begging for _me_.

His head goes back and forth as he kisses my neck. His hair brushes my cheek. His hand presses again and I almost come. I'm so close.

There's a bump downstairs, a door closing, running water. A flush.

We freeze and look at each other wild-eyed.

I don't want it to be like this. Not like this.

Not hiding and sneaking and shameful.

"Go," I urge him. He kisses my forehead and searches my eyes. It's so dark. "Go," I say again. I can't even imagine the scene if we're caught like this. I don't want that for any of us.

Mike doesn't deserve that.

Edward kisses me one more time. A searing, possessive, claiming kiss.

And then he's gone.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading... *ducks pitchforks* HEY! <em>

_Chapter song: Too Afraid to Love You by The Black Keys_

_Word Prompts: Beside, collide, reside_

_Choose one word and write what your imagination dictates. For an added challenge, include all three words in your entry._


	11. Is he?

_SM owns Twilight. Thanks to Aussiegirl101 for beta-ing. Even the swear words. ;) _

_LOL So we're all okay with Edward creeping in her room? Watching her sleep? Yeah, we are. Only Edward can pull that off. It wasn't a dream... it wasn't a dream at all. Oh, and the necklace is in my pretty banner by Marina. Link on my profile. :) _

_Onward..._

* * *

><p>Edward's early morning visit leaves me wide awake. I don't go back to sleep.<p>

I sit with my arms wrapped around my knees, my back against the pillows and watch the sky go from inky, terrifying black to a more hopeful slate. I watch and wait. I wait for the new day.

_Today is the first day of the rest of my life. _

Sometimes the clichés are right.

The sunrise is magnificent. Streaks of red and gold stain the clouds on the horizon. I sit still and watch as the sun itself peeks over the horizon.

I wonder what sunny beach I'll be laying on tomorrow. I'd even brave a nude one just to have Edward beside me in all his naked glory.

I touch my lips and remember. It's never been like that, ever. All along, Edward could set me ablaze with a single glance from those emerald eyes. I hadn't really thought what his touch would do. My fingers trail along my collarbone and I can feel the ghost of the kisses Edward pressed there. My hand floats down to my breast and squeezes gently, remembering.

"Edward," I whisper his name aloud.

I am nothing more than a bundle of want now. Everything else has become an obstacle between me getting to Edward.

Finally. I know what I want.

It's way too early for the guys downstairs to be getting up. I think about all I have to do.

Mike asked me to move in shortly after we got engaged. I never did move all my things so there isn't very much to pack. I have a feeling he's going to want me to remove every trace of Bella so I carefully go through toiletries and knick knacks. Pangs of guilt hit me like tiny darts.

I'm not used to letting people down. I'm not used to making people sad or angry. And that's all I'm going to do today.

_You can't please all the people all of the time. _

Stupid clichés.

I shower and get myself ready to face the day. I put on Edward's hourglass necklace and tuck it under my shirt. The charm hangs between my breasts. I wish I'd been wearing it last night.

I type up a letter of resignation and email my boss. I apologize for not giving notice and feel guilty about letting them down. More pangs of guilt.

I think about my parents and almost lose my nerve completely. I can't face my overemotional mother. I can't talk to them before I talk to Mike.

My stomach rolls. I contemplate just leaving a Dear John letter and hightailing it. It's not like he is going to enjoy the conversation.

There is dread and guilt and hope and excitement.

In a word. I'm a mess.

By noon, the guys have all left. There is much moaning and head holding and bellyaching as they make their way through the house and out the door. I don't know why they do this to themselves.

Mike stirs two gel caps into his coffee and staggers to the couch. I go get my things and pile them by the front door.

"Uhg. Bella what are you doing? Could you try to keep it down?" Mike's voice is low but whiney. He sounds like his mom. I appear in the doorway of the living room with my suitcase. I figure it can be the conversation opener.

I don't know where to start.

Mike chuckles and then winces. I cross the room and pull the blinds down, blocking the weak sunlight from the room. "Thanks baby," Mike says. He slurps his coffee. "What's with the bag? You packing for the honeymoon already?"

Damn.

Not the segue I was going for.

He closes his eyes and leans back against the couch with a groan. "That suitcase is too big, Bella. You don't need more than a couple bikinis... I don't want you properly dressed the whole time."

There's my opening.

I remind myself why I'm doing this.

Edward.

I'm going to run away with Edward Cullen.

Why does that sound really ridiculous all of a sudden?

"It's not for our honeymoon," I say. My voice cracks and I clear my throat. Mike doesn't even open his eyes. "I don't want to get married. I've packed up my stuff."

There. I did it. I don't feel good about it but I do feel lighter.

_The truth shall set you free._

What is it with me and the fucking clichés today?

Mike laughs, groans, opens his eyes and his arms. "C'mere baby," he says. He's looking at me like I'm a five year old threatening to run away from home. That's actually pretty close to how I feel. I stay where I am and shake my head. He puts on a pout. "You just have cold feet, Bella. Happens to everyone."

He closes his eyes again. I'm dismissed. He doesn't believe me.

"Mike," I start again. I hadn't planned this part out. "I'm sorry but I mean it. I'm leaving." I'm actually kind of pissed now. He's lying there with his hangover completely confident in himself. I pick up the case and turn. I hear him groan and the sound of couch as Mike heaves himself to his feet.

I feel him come up behind me. His hand is on mine, the one holding the suitcase. "Put it down, Bella. You don't have to be so dramatic... I'm listening. What do you want? What did my mother do now?" I don't put the case down. Mike walks around so he's facing me.

Mike's blue eyes are bloodshot. Exhausted. I'm tired too. He tut tuts and brushes tears from my face. I didn't even realize I'd started crying.

I'm not crying because I'm sad to be leaving. And I didn't think it would be easy. I kind of just want it to be done. I want him to believe I'm capable of shocking him. I want him to believe me and let me go.

Something else to feel guilty about. Oh God, I'm starting to feel guilty about being bitter about feeling guilty. I think about my purpose, refocus myself.

Edward.

Beach.

Possible public nudity and definite private nudity.

This is so wrong. I don't care. I want him. For once in my life I am going to do what I want.

Mike notices the pile of bags at the door and frowns. "Bella?"

"I'm sorry," I whisper again. He reaches for my hand and I pull away. "I shouldn't have left it so late, I didn't know what was happening..." I realize I'm echoing Edward's words. The things he said to me weeks ago at lunch that set this whole thing in motion.

Truth is I've felt this way for a while.

Mike's brow is furrowed. "Bella, c'mon," he sighs. "Do we have to do this right now?" He doesn't mean break up. He still doesn't believe me. He sits heavily on a kitchen chair and puts his head in his hands. I take things to my car.

That gets his attention.

He's waiting at the door when I come back in. "What the fuck? Bella, just tell me what's going on. Fuck. Ow," he grabs at his head and closes his eyes. He's gone green.

I could blame it on his drinking. I could tell him I don't like all the sports or his parents' store or his mother or his ten year plan that has never taken what I might like to do into account. I could hurt him. But I won't. Not anymore than I have to.

"It's me, Mike. I just changed my mind. I can't picture this anymore. I can't marry you. I'm so sorry."

There is more disbelief on his part, more tears on mine. He begs, he promises to be better although I've asked for nothing, I've complained about nothing. Finally, he gets angry. His sweet face twists into a sneer. His blue eyes narrow. He calls me a bitch. He tells me to get out.

I never mention Edward. I can barely remember why I'm doing this. Didn't I want this?

I look at Mike's house in my rear view mirror as I drive away. The door is shut, the blinds I drew closed shielding the windows. I've burned a bridge. It feels like I've made an enemy.

This doesn't feel like an adventure anymore. It feels like a disaster.

_Edward is worth it. _

Is he?

I call him but it goes to voice mail. I don't leave a message because I don't want Edward to hear me cry. My stomach is churning again. I don't even know Edward's home phone number. I don't know if he stayed at his parents' house or went back to Seattle.

A nasty cold feeling snakes down my spine.

My parents can tell something is wrong right away. We sit around the kitchen table, the scene of all family drama and I tell them in a dead voice what I've done. What I'm doing. But not about Edward.

They would be horrified if they knew what I was really planning to do.

My mom flips out. She calls me selfish, ungrateful, cold, rude. She gets up and paces back and forth behind my father's chair, pointing her finger at me, waving her hands in the air.

What will Mrs Newton say? How could I do this to her? What's wrong with me?

My father is silent through her tirade watching me and my reactions. When my mother pauses to draw breath he cuts in.

"Bella doesn't have to get married if she doesn't want to," he says. His voice holds the command of his job as chief of police. He's looking at me closely. "Renee. Sit down. This is your daughter... you're supposed to be on her side." My mother stops berating and begging. Her sniffling goes on. Dad opens a beer and shuffles off to the TV.

I lug my things to my old room and repack. For what weather I don't know, I don't know where Edward and I are going, so I pack a variety.

I check my phone. Nothing. Even before last night, Edward usually called every day.

I try calling again and don't leave a message again.

The bank will be closing soon so I head that way. I'll clean out my desk while I wait for Edward to call.

_If he calls. _My mind thinks unhelpfully.

My office isn't private. Other staff use it when I'm not in so I've never made a habit of leaving many personal effects around. I take my planner and my little stash of snacks. I've left a couple of sweaters and a mug in the staff room. That's pretty much it. I leave my key and supervisor card with Sharon at reception and, when she looks at me in confusion, I tell her George, our manager, will fill her in on Monday.

I'm in my car when I see Edward. He's parked across from the bank, standing beside his car, looking at the building. A wave of relief rolls through me. And the lust is back, a dangerous undertow that I'm not even trying to fight. I want him, I want this time with him. He promised. Maybe I don't know him well but I can, I will. We can run away just like he said and get lost in each other. Last night was only the beginning.

I can't see his expression clearly, I'm too far away. Before I can call out I see someone get out the passenger side of his car.

Kate.

He meets her on the sidewalk. I watch her touch his face. He puts his hand on her shoulder. They're talking and I can see Kate nodding at Edward's words.

It's like watching a movie. A movie you're enjoying and you think you know what's going to happen next and then BOOM, some devastating event unfolds and changes the whole plot of the story before your mind can fully grasp what's happening.

Edward crosses the street and goes into the bank. A hundred possibilities flit through my mind, some good, many bad. I'm not one to jump to conclusions but I'm not happy with any reason Edward might have for spending Saturday afternoon with his ex-girlfriend when hours ago he had his hands and lips all over me. Telling me he loved me. Kate watches him and stands beside the car. I can't make out her expression either.

The sky is overcast, no sign of the brilliant sun that rose this morning in a blaze of red and gold while I made my silly little girl plans.

_Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. _

My chest aches. Karma has decided to be swift and severe in its response to my selfish behaviour. I turn the key in the ignition. I'm a fool. All day this sick feeling has been growing. I thought it was what I was doing to Mike, my parents. The stress of delivering the message. I thought I was sure of Edward. He was the good thing that was going to come out of this. My reward for being brave. I go over the sequence of events again starting with lunch two weeks ago and ending with last night.

What happened last night? Edward almost fucked me in Mike's bed, that's what happened.

I told him to go. And boy did he.

A song that I really like comes on. The lyrics haven't made a big impression up until now. I listen to the whole song and then press repeat. I listen again sitting there in my car. I think.

Mike offered me security.

Edward offered me a fling.

I watch Edward come out of the bank and he and Kate drive away to do whatever it is that they're doing together. I breathe deep and steady, in and out. I'm sitting but feel faint. I listen to the song again. I mouth the words and let tears flow.

_I need freedom now_

_And I need to know how _

_To live my life as it's meant to be._

I don't need Edward to run away.

I wipe away tears and put the car into gear. The plot of the movie may have changed but I'm still in it. This is_ my_ movie. I start the song again and turn it up loud. It's a long drive but maybe when I get there I'll know where I want to go.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading and for all your great comments. <em>

_Chap song: The Cave by Mumford & Sons (bonus song for earlier in the chapter: These Boats by Bobby Long. I had to)_

_Word Prompt: Paste_

_Plot Generator—Phrase Catch: You can't please everyone._

_Repeat the phrase to yourself five times, open a blank word document and begin._


	12. Where to?

_SM owns Twilight. Beta'd by the awesome Aussiegirl101. _

_It's a short one, sorry. I meant to update twice today but I've submitted a teaser for the next chapter at Fictionators Teaser Monday so I can't post until that comes out. _

_I'm loving your comments - you guys are loud and opinionated. LOVE it! General consensus is Bella is finally doing what's best for herself, regardless of what she thinks she saw. Although a fair number of you are pissed with one or both of them. That's okay too. ;)_

* * *

><p>I scan my options. Check the time. Scan again.<p>

_Make a decision, Bella._

My suitcase is too big for carry-on which limits my options slightly. I can't make the flight to Cancun, for instance, not that I'd want to go there. Mike and I have been there twice and that's where the honeymoon was supposed to be.

I wonder if he'll go anyway. I smile lightly, thinking of him meeting the right girl on that trip. I like the idea that I've set him free to find someone who will make him happy and be happy with him. It was remarkably easy to let him go.

Not so much with Edward. But he wasn't really mine to let go of.

I'd been calm while I drove. I had a destination and a purpose and felt like I was doing 'The Right Thing'. It didn't feel like running away... I was just _going_ away.

Now, the feelings churn up again; crushing disappoint, crippling doubt. Tiny twinges down low remind me what I walked away from, what I'm denying myself. I see Edward's face in my mind's eye, the way he looked at me last night. My heart thumps heavily in my chest, slow and steady but with a strange force to it. It makes me feel nauseous.

There have been two texts from Edward.

"_Where are you?"_

"_Talk to me? Please?"_

I text back.

"_I can't. Not yet."_

I turn off my phone.

I scan the flights again, take a deep calming breath, and decide.

#

I turn my phone back on as soon as is allowed. There are 15 messages.

Two from my mother.

Three from Mike.

Ten from Edward.

I call mom and tell her what I'm doing.

I text Mike. He only wants to check on me. He apologizes for getting so angry, for calling me names. That was a side of him I hadn't seen before and it scared me. He doesn't ask me to come back and I'm relieved. I don't want to go over it again.

It was so easy to let him go.

Edward's messages are frantic.

"_Where are you?"_

"_What's going on?"_

_"I just talked to Mike. Bella, please call me."_

It would be so easy to go back. I want to, badly. I can't call Edward. Hearing his voice would have me on the next plane back and I know I shouldn't do that. Edward wants me, in exactly what way still isn't clear, but I know if I go back now he will devour me. Use me, discard me. Destroy me. Loving him and losing him will break me.

I'm not completely sure it hasn't already.

I send one last text.

"_Leave me alone."_

My heart is racing. I feel sick and stupid and know that I have to calm down – get a grip on myself. I try a few deep breaths but my hands start to shake when my phone buzzes again. It could be my mom calling back, or Mike or Angela. Good Lord, what if Mike's mom calls me?

In my heart, I know it's Edward. The phone is a ticking time bomb; it's only a matter of time until Edward finds the right combination of words to lure me back.

I know what I have to do.

I power the phone off and drop it in a trash can. The relief is instant. It feels like a giant pair of scissors has snipped the tether holding me to all of them.

I hail a cab and set off to find the rest of myself.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading. Where would YOU go? <em>

_**Word Prompt**__: Calculate_

_Plot Generator—Binding Blurb: In 500 words or fewer, write a blurb or a short entry on managing stress._

_Chapter song: Right to Be Wrong by Joss Stone_


	13. How far?

_SM owns Twilight. Thank you so much to Aussiegirl101 for agreeing to beta. _

_Last chapter I asked where would you go? You answered everywhere from New Zealand to New York! Best answer has to go to hellokittee "back to Edward as fast as I could." _

_I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it. Be sure to check out the prompt this time; it was profound. _

* * *

><p>New York is intriguing. I can see why Edward likes it so much. The bustle is intoxicating, it's easy to get lost and then found, over and over. The skyscrapers block out the glare of the sun and the sky is reduced to bright blue ribbons between concrete and glass.<p>

Still, it feels too close to home... and there is always the danger that Edward could show up here for work.

I go to the airport again.

When I was 19, I planned a trip to Europe. I was going to do the standard backpack, starving student thing but I couldn't get anyone to go with me and my parents wouldn't let me go on my own. I remember the excitement of planning and the disappointment when they said 'no'. I remember being angry with them and myself, vowing to go someday. Realizing that dream was becoming more and more unlikely as the years ticked by. I still have the itinerary somewhere at home but I don't need it. I have it memorised and besides I don't have to stick to it. I can go wherever I want now.

Better late than never.

London is intimidating. The traffic is menacing, the crowds boisterous. I know they're speaking English but a lot of the time I can't understand what they're saying. I get lost using the Underground, twice. I'd like to stay, try to get used to the energy here, conquer my fear of it, but it's too expensive to stay long.

Before I go, I visit the Tower because I've been fascinated with it since I was a little girl. Not the princesses and fairy tale side of things. The dark side of humanity, the terrible things that happen, the terrible things that people do to each other that eventually become nothing more than footnotes. Exhibits for others to learn from.

I see the Crown Jewels, Anne Boleyn's resting place and the Bloody Tower where Sir Walter Raleigh was imprisoned for thirteen years before being beheaded. I think about prisons – the ones constructed of cold stone and iron and the invisible ones we construct for ourselves.

I wonder if I've escaped one prison only to create another one.

Edward's necklace is cool against my chest. And just as valuable to me as the large, impressive stone in the Sceptre of the Cross. I smile when I read the stone's name.

The Cullinan Diamond.

Everything reminds me of him.

###

I'm in Paris when the day rolls round. The day that would have been my wedding day. I walk for hours through charming streets and manicured public gardens. I walk and walk, waiting for regret to trip me up, send me staggering, but it never comes. Breaking the engagement with Mike was the right thing, for both of us. Edward – regardless of his methods or motivations – did that for us. Edward opened my eyes and showed me the way out.

Maybe Edward can't be mine, maybe he's not capable of that. I love him anyway. I have a feeling I always will. I don't know if I'm even capable of loving anyone else anymore.

Should I even try?

I'm not always alone. Often I am absorbed into groups when I go out for dinner or to sightsee. I meet locals, Americans, Brits, people from all over. I develop mini-friendships with limited time warranties. You can have a whole lifetime with someone in the course of an evening if you put your mind to it. And drink enough wine.

It's my last night in Paris. The silver light of a full moon beams on the rooftops of the nearby apartments. If I lean way over the railing of Michel's balcony I can see a fragment of the Eiffel Tower and the lights of the Palais de Chaillot.

"Isabella? You will be cold, come back to bed."

I don't pretend he's Edward. That wouldn't be fair... and no one else is ever going to be Edward. I get that now.

Michel hugs me to him and pulls the covers over us. He's warm and I thaw out a bit. It _is _cold outside. "You will have dinner with me tomorrow? Please?"

I kiss his shoulder. "Sorry, I can't."

"Why? My friend has a nice place, I will feed you good things. Why can't you come?" his tone is persuasive. I smile at his accent and his unintended double entendre.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." Michel shifts so we can see each other. Black hair flops on his forehead and he props himself up on his elbow.

"I didn't know this," he says. He smiles and kisses my nose. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't decided."

###

Spain is beautiful and hot and cheap. This last is important because I'm nowhere near ready to go home but my bank balance is dwindling fast. I can't work without a visa and I don't speak any other languages. I hate the thought of returning to Forks with my tail between my legs. I don't trust myself to not fall back into one bad habit or another.

Not yet.

Spain is new territory for me. It wasn't on my younger self's itinerary and I don't know very much about its history or culture. I give myself two weeks to explore before figuring out what to do next.

The art captivates me. I don't understand it at all but it makes me _feel_. Lines and curves and colour present themselves on giant canvases and I stare and feel the sensuality of it, the anger and the passion. One piece in particular reminds me of hands and lips and the long lean figure of Edward. I float back to the last night I saw him, felt him and I'm burning with the want of him again.

Spain suddenly doesn't seem far enough away.

It's in another gallery that I meet Alice and Jasper, a sweet couple returning from their own adventures abroad. Over a long, sangria-laced lunch they give me the idea of what to do next, how to get farther away.

I don't realize at the time that I'm going so far around the world that I'm on my way home again.

###

"Ohayou gozaimasu, Miss Swan."

"Ohayou gozaimasu to you too. Now, how would you say it in English?"

"Good morning, Miss Swan."

"Good morning, class."

Japan is a revelation. My teaching certificate was useless back home, there weren't any positions in such a small town. I haven't stepped into a classroom since my student teaching days but it feels familiar and comfortable. I'm good at this. I can feel myself blossom like the cherry trees that are everywhere here. I love the sweet faces of the children and the quiet pride of the adults as they master a new word or phrase.

The people are wonderful. Curious about me and eager to share their culture. I learn about different standards of beauty; the quiet, the subtle, the imperfect, the mysterious.

I live in a shoebox. It's a tiny space: one room where the couch is also the bed and a closet with a toilet _in_ the shower – but it's all mine. I arrived with a suitcase and a few little things from my travels and haven't added much to the collection. I have never lived so simply and it suits me. I feel peaceful and content. I realize at some point I've lost the burden of guilt and embarrassment, as if I've put down a heavy bag and walked away without ever missing it. I'm lighter.

I'm happy.

Mostly.

How I feel about Edward hasn't faded. It's a constant dull ache – most of the time I can keep busy and distract myself. When I'm alone...

I remember. I relive every moment. I daydream about what could have been.

At night, in my tiny bed, I try to make my hands to replicate Edward's touches. The feather light stroking of my thigh and I break out in goosebumps. His deft fingers pressing between my legs and I'm gasping. Soft gentle circles in just the right spot and harder, more demanding pressure as I get closer. I writhe and remember the hard feel of him on top of me. I imagine him urging me on with his hypnotic voice, his words breathed hotly against my mouth. I whisper his name, over and over, and he's telling me to let go, to come and I do... but even as it's happening, as I'm lost in sensation, I know it's not even close to what he could do to me.

I acknowledge that he's not someone you get over and I make a sort of peace with it. I was fortunate to have a taste, a moment in the sun. Whether Edward is mine or not... I'm his. As much as I've made my life what it is now, it's Edward who set it all in motion. He made this happen. I could love him for that alone.

I work three semesters at the school, in a funny little building that always reminds me of a steamboat on the Mississippi. I'm well-liked by the staff and students, and when the administration asks me to stay on longer, I consider it.

I walk along the banks of the river and think about what I want to do. It's the end of the Bon Festival and the water is filled with hundreds of candle-lit lanterns. They bob and twinkle prettily in the night, providing light to guide the spirits of ancestors as they journey. This makes me think of Nana Swan and I buy a lantern to honour her. I watch it float along with the others until I can't see it anymore. Then I think about my parents. Suddenly, I'm thinking about tall green trees and tidal pools and big, greasy cheeseburgers and driving a car...

I realize I'm ready to go home.

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><p><em>Thank you for reading. <em>

_**Word Prompt**__: Foreign_

_Audio-Visual Challenge—Musical Mastery: "Poison & Wine" by The Civil Wars (link on my profile)_

_Listen to the sample, then write whatever comes to you first._

_Emo note - please feel free to skip: I mentioned before I wrote this in January when I was in my annual S.A.D. winter slump. This year was worse than most and I'm still not completely myself. Anyway, as I was reading your comments on early chapters and seeing how the sunshine Edward thing was jumping out at everyone I had an 'aha' moment. In the darkest days of winter, I had turned Edward into the sun I needed so badly. It was completely subconscious and I didn't realize until weeks later that was the inspiration for that whole theme. *looks around at everyone backing away* Erm, thanks for listening. lol _


	14. Does he still?

_SM owns Twilight. Thank you dear Aussiegirl101 for agreeing to beta._

_What's that peeking over the horizon...? *shades eyes* _

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><p>My old boss is surprised to hear from me. I'm prepared to be dismissed, perhaps get a lecture for leaving the bank so abruptly, almost a year ago, but he seems glad that I called. We chat and I tell him what I'm looking for and he tells me he'll get back to me.<p>

I have a six month contract by the end of the week. Corporate training isn't much different from teaching and it will allow me to be in Seattle for a while, close enough to visit my parents but far enough away to have my own life. I find an apartment to rent short term and start my new job.

On the third day, I volunteer for the coffee run. The gray, misty day reminds me of London as I walk to the shop on the corner. The place is busy, there's a huge line up and I sigh as I join the queue. I look around casually in that subtle way I've perfected over the past year; travelling has made me quite the people watcher.

I spot him in about ten nanoseconds. He's magnetic, impossible to miss. He draws the eye. Holds the eye.

Shit.

_It can't be him… _

_Can it?_

I look again, a quick glance. There's the hair – that's what caught my attention in the first place. That ridiculous mop of silky bronze hair. It's wet, from the near constant drizzling outside, and even though it's a shade darker than I remember it still stands out in a crowd. It still looks familiar.

I risk a peek at the man's face.

Beautiful, all sharp angles and planes, golden stubble and lashes that belong in a mascara advertisement. I can't see his eyes but I don't need to. Nobody else in the world looks like this man.

My stomach knots.

Oh God.

It _is _him.

My own face burns. The pure impact of him hasn't diminished, not in the least. In fact he's better looking than I remembered.

I have to get out of here before he sees me. I'm not on fire just because Edward Cullen's face can stop traffic. I'm not light-headed because he's the tallest person in line or his shoulders completely obscure the person in front of him. I swear to God he's throwing an aura... and I can't do this. Not again.

There are memories. There is shame.

There is want.

I take one more look and regret it. His hands are in his pockets, his dress pants stretched tight across the back.

I never even got the chance to touch it.

The one-two punch of the outline of his perfect rear and the memory of fingers I can't even see send me reeling.

Fingers that brushed the skin of my neck or shoulder so many times, innocently. Or so I always thought. I mean, what would Edward Cullen want with me?

Fingers that teased me just the once, one night, one moment. Skimming over my bare thigh, toying with the edge of my panties. Those fingers and those lips because, now that he's half-turned his head, I can see his full lips. I can remember his hot breath on my skin and the warm, wet trail they left on my neck. How he gasped my name. Ruined me.

I can't face him.

I try to back out of the coffee shop's line but I'm corralled in and no one seems to be getting my secret mind memo to get out of my way. Edward is only a few people in front of me. If I speak up he might recognize my voice.

_Would_ he recognize my voice?

Would _he_ even want to talk to _me_?

I'm not graceful at the best of times and ducking under the green rope to escape probably isn't the best idea. Of course, it isn't.

I stumble, I pull the whole fucking thing down with me, the rope, the two silver posts holding up the rope… I'm a heap on the floor, hot tears sting my eyes…

I don't dare look up, I just right myself, square my shoulders and start to walk toward the door. Low mutters and a few "What the fucks?" reach my ears. My hand is on the door handle…

_Please, God. Just let me get out of here? Please?_

"Bella? Bella, is that you?"

I go through the door but I hear his footsteps behind me. He catches up with me just outside.

Why did I come to Seattle? A part of me had to know this could happen. Not the falling over in a blaze of glory in a coffee shop part. The Edward part. Maybe I thought I'd built him up too much in my imagination. Maybe I thought seeing him wouldn't have this effect on me. Maybe I let myself believe he was somewhere else, moved onward and upward. But I knew there was every possibility that I'd see him here, run into him somewhere.

So why was I running from him?

Fear. Pride. I don't want to hear that he's married to Kate and they have a beautiful blonde baby with emerald green eyes and live in a wonderful house with a white picket fence. I don't want to have the absolute knowledge that Edward said he didn't want those things but that he meant he just didn't want them with _me_.

He's in front of me now, his chest is obscuring everything. My mouth is dry and it's like the last year didn't happen. I've reverted to the timid, awestruck girl I was.

Edward's mantra pops into my head.

_Fuck that. _

I straighten out my mental spine and tug up my imaginary big girl panties. I sigh, being sure to lace it with a bit of sarcastic drama. "Nice to see you, Edward. Now, if you could let me pass I'll be on my way before someone comes looking for money for the damage." I step to the side but he moves too, blocking me.

It occurs to me that I'm assuming too much. I'm no longer a prize to be stolen from Mike, and I'm most definitely not blonde. There's a very good chance that Edward no longer has any interest in me whatsoever.

I lift my head slowly, drinking in Edward's starched white shirt, stretched across his broad shoulders. Then the column of his neck with its Adam's apple bobbing and then, my God, his chin and his jaw, those sharp lines from my memory and he's so close that I could tilt my head back, go on my tip toes and...

_Pull yourself together, Bella._

His lips are parted slightly and he's breathing a little heavy. So am I. I glance up to his hair and feel the corner of my mouth tug into a smile. As if he needed more decoration. The mess of red and brown and copper and bronze is tipped with wet, the mist and drizzle adding a shiny, diamond effect.

I save his eyes for last.

And as I meet the dazzling green of them I realize I haven't assumed too much.

He's interested. I can say with absolute certainty that no one has ever looked at me like this. I'm on fire again. One look.

It takes some effort to not just lie down on the sidewalk and tell him to hop on.

_That's_ how he's looking at me.

He draws a breath, as if he'd been holding it, and his face changes. "You're here," he says. He sounds stunned. It's adorable. I'd make a joke about Captain Obvious but my brain isn't firing on all synapses. I nod instead. I make an impatient gesture, I want to walk on.

No I don't.

Edward's face thaws, the shock morphing into a cheeky grin. "We have to at least have coffee. I mean, c'mon! You were here to get coffee, right?" He's pointing at the doors we just passed through, motioning that we should go back in.

I look at him like he's crazy.

"Uh, I'm not going back in there..." I squint like I'm counting, calculating. "Um, ever. Ever again." His grin fades to a sympathetic wince. He looks me over but not like _that_. With concern.

"Oh... yeah. Hey are you okay?" he asks. I nod and can feel myself blush. Why the fuck did that have to happen? Edward goes on as if he hadn't just seen me doing a bad impression of Chevy Chase. "Well, luckily we're in Seattle. We'll go get coffee next door," he coaxes.

I'm clutching a list in my hand, I have about 10 orders and don't relish the idea of going back empty handed. I do _have_ to get coffee. So I nod again. I'm rewarded with that big smile, the one where his whole face crinkles up and his eyes almost disappear. The sun's come out on this dreary day.

There isn't really a coffee shop next door so we walk half a block in silence. Edward opens a door and motions for me to go first.

The place is a gem. Dark wood and masses of soothing greenery and it's so quiet. No line up. I sigh in relief and approach the counter. Time to show Edward the new me. Confident. Bold. In control.

Barista dude is a cutie-pie with a quick smile, floppy dirty blonde hair and a green apron. When I push my glasses up my nose he mirrors the motion.

"Hi, what can I get you?" his smile is full of appreciation. Edward stands stiffly just to my side. A glance at him reveals amusement... and a touch of annoyance. I smirk.

Good.

"Here's the thing," I begin. "My new colleagues gave me this list and I was supposed to go to that _other_ coffee place a few doors down." I raise my eyebrows and we both mock shudder. "Problem is... I can't translate this." I hold up the list and look at him hopefully. I lower my voice conspiratorially. "Do you by any chance speak Starbucks?"

He takes the list and looks it over. He puffs up with pride. "I'm fluent in Starbucks. I won't let you down," he plays along. Edward breathes through his nose as I turn to find a seat. Barista guy calls out. "Oh hey, which of these is your order? I'll make it first so you can have it while you wait."

I turn back and smile. "The first one, thanks. Oh, could you take his order too," I point my thumb toward Edward. "He's waiting with me."

Barista boy seems to notice Edward for the first time, takes one look, and sighs in defeat. "What can I get you?" he asks, mechanically.

"Medium, black," Edward is curt. My stomach flutters at the serious look on his face but the barista's tiny eye roll makes me smile.

I whisper to Edward as we go to find seats. "You've offended him with your boring choice."

Edward's expression is still serious but something else flickers in his eyes. "I want what I want." I actually clench.

Jesus Christ.

We take a table by a window. I find it hard to look at him straight on and focus on his hands instead. He's playing with his fingers; stretching them, flexing them, cracking his knuckles. I squirm in my seat.

"Where were you?" he asks. I finally look at his eyes. He looks sad.

I smile but I know I look sad too – or wistful at least. "Would you believe I went around the whole world?" The barista arrives and deposits our coffees. We murmur our thanks and he goes to make up the rest of the order. There will be no more flirting.

We sip. I wait to hear what Edward will say. The intensity is oppressive but I'm in no hurry to leave. Any time with him feels like a gift and I'm too happy to feel foolish for thinking that way. I look out the window and see the clouds are thinning out. The sun might come out today after all. I ask Edward about his job.

"Same job but bigger clients. Bigger budgets. So it's good. It's going well." He doesn't want to talk about work. I toy absently with the chain around my neck and then Edward is staring at my chest. I think about making a snarky comment about where my eyes are.

"You're wearing it." His tone is awed.

It's the hourglass necklace and of course I'm wearing it. I always wear it.

Damn it.

It's as if we've been playing poker and I was working the best bluff ever and the cards have suddenly become see through. He can see right through me. I feel so exposed. I can't breathe and my eyes sting like I might cry – but I won't

I do blush. Brilliantly. I shift as if to get up. "I have to go," I say. Why is the order taking so long?

Edward grabs my hand before I can stand. "We have to talk more. Have dinner with me? Tonight, please?" I want to and I have to dig deep to remember why I shouldn't.

Oh, right. This is Edward Cullen. He, of the disposable girlfriends.

"I'd love to but I don't know... it depends..." I stall. I'm trying to pull myself back together.

"Depends on what?" His fingers stroke the back of my hand. He's persuasive, compelling.

I look out the window. Try to remain stoic in his presence. "On whether I'm catching you between girlfriends or would I become the new secret complication?"

He winces. "I'm not dating anyone. Even if I was -"

I interrupt him. "What about Kate? How did she take the second break up?" The words are out before I can stop them.

Edward blanches, his brow furrows. "Kate? I told you before, Kate and I broke up, that was over... the second time..?" he asks in confusion. He's going back over my words. His jaw drops in horror. "You saw us, didn't you? Bella, it was –"

"It was nothing. I know," I say. My tone is biting. I'm shaking my head. It's like being trapped in a bad soap opera. I stand up. "It was nothing. You can explain. You know what? It doesn't matter."

Barista guy arrives with my order. "Anything else?" he asks hopefully. I get the impression our fight has made him happy. Edward glowers at him while I pay.

Edward stands and leans down so I'm forced to look at him. He's so close. I want to melt into him. "Is _that_ why you left?" he whispers. He sounds heartbroken and angry. My faces burns, there's nothing I can do about it. I feel defiant. If Edward thinks he can undo everything I've gained with one intense conversation he's wrong.

I straighten up and look at him seriously. "That's why I drove to the airport." Edward's face crumples and I feel myself caving. I want to fix it. I want to make him feel better about all of this. "That's not why I got on a plane." I pick up the bag and he puts out a hand to stop me.

"Tonight? Please? Bella there's so much I need to say. I told you before... I wasn't going to give up," his voice is low. "I'm so happy you're here. Give me a chance."

As if I could say no.

I scribble my number and address on a business card. He kisses my cheek and I breathe deep, letting warmth and coffee and spice flood my senses. Nothing has changed. I want him.

If I'm honest with myself... this is why I came home. To see if any of this had been real. To see if I'd imagined it all - and if I hadn't, was it something that was still possible.

To give us a chance.

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><p><em>Thank you for reading. I want to hug the lot of you. <em>

_Same chapter song as the prologue but now it makes more sense ;) Don't Panic by Coldplay_

_**Word Prompt**: Fun_

_Plot Generator—Idea Completion: Fight or flight._

_An idea or concept is presented. Follow where it leads you._


	15. Everything ok?

_SM owns Twilight. Forever thank yous to Aussiegirl101 and her mad beta skills. Any errors are mine as I can't help playing around with Edward, I mean, the words._

_Thanks for all your comments and messages about the last chapter - I roll around in them like rose petals on a bed. ;)_

_Dinnertime!_

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><p>I check myself in the ladies' room mirror. Big, brown eyes sparkle with excitement and nerves. Shiny, dark hair hangs in a wavy curtain over my shoulders. I've dressed simply; a casual dress, a light cardigan, flat sandals. The necklace.<p>

Edward keeps glancing at it. Or maybe he's just checking out my boobs. I'll know the answer to that soon enough.

I dab on lip gloss and indulge in one deep breath. I look good. I feel good.

Dinner is going well, I think.

I had a long, serious talk with myself before meeting Edward at this restaurant. This dark, romantic restaurant with its tiny U-shaped booths that force its patrons to sit close together. I can feel the spot on my knee that has been pressed against Edward's throughout dinner. I'm easily distracted this evening but force myself to focus. Be calm.

I promised myself.

I promised myself that I would... be myself. If I want to get to know Edward better, and let him get to know me, there's no sense in pretending to be something I'm not. If, and _if _is the crucial word, he's sincere about wanting me – loving me – then it's me he's going to get.

We haven't talked about anything very serious yet and that worries me. Edward half-stands when I return to the table and doesn't sit until I do. He's on his best behaviour which is touching... and unnerving. Whatever he wants with me he wants badly enough to work at it.

"Everything ok?" he asks. I nod as I pick up my fork.

It's hard to eat with your heart in your throat. I glance at his plate and notice he hasn't eaten very much either. That's comforting for some reason. We're in this together. Whatever _this_ ends up being.

His eyes see too much; each time I shift in my seat, cross and recross my legs. He watches me drink my wine and unleashes the slow smile that would be arrogant on any other face. I can't meet his eyes without my stomach doing slow flips. Another reason to not eat.

We do need to talk though.

"Hey Edward?" I strive for light, playful.

"Yes, Bella?"

"Think you could dial it down a bit?"

"What are you talking about?" Edward laughs and puts his fork down. He reaches over and brushes my hair back over my shoulder. He's looking at the necklace again.

I watch him take a sip of wine and the movement of his throat as he swallows.

"I'm talking about, if Spinal Tap goes up to 11, then you somehow are able to turn your sexy up to 15. Or 20. I can't concentrate on anything when you're looking at me like that." I push a lobster ravioli around my plate and watch Edward out of the corner of my eye.

He hums a little laugh and tilts his head to the side. He's positively predatory. "How am I looking at you?" he asks. His voice should be illegal.

He's smouldering at me, that's what he's doing.

"You're looking at me like you're going to drag me under the table and have your way with me," I blurt out. He grins, shocked and amused, but recovers quickly.

"Don't be silly, Bella," he leans toward me and speaks softly. I know I'm staring at his lips. "This is a tiny table for two. I'd need much more room to do all that I'd want to you," he says. Jesus, that's cocky. I should hate it but I don't. In fact, I kind of want to ask what some of those things might be and which of them could be accomplished under this tiny table because if he did try to drag me under it I'd let him. And he knows it.

I want answers though. I want to hear what he has to say. He can smoulder at me later.

"C'mon," I say, grinning back. I bump his knee with mine. "You invited me out, you said we needed to talk. So... talk." I sound more challenging than I mean to but he seems to like it.

"Hm," he looks at me, wondering where to start. "I was so mad at you," Edward says, surprising me. His small smile is at odds with his words. "When you left like that... I was. I was mad." He rubs at the light stubble under his chin.

I think back to when I first left. Was I ever mad at him? No, I don't think so. Seeing Edward with Kate had been exactly what I expected. It didn't anger me but it did send me running. I wait.

Edward sighs. We've both given up on the charade of eating, pick up our wine glasses and turn to face each other. Our legs are still touching, as if neither of us can stand the loss of contact. I really want to believe in all this.

"Are you still mad?" I ask. He's shaking his head before the question is even out.

"No. I wasn't mad for long..." Edward touches my cheek. "I missed you. I worried – no one would tell me anything – I even went to see your parents, did you know that?" I shake my head. They hadn't told me. "It took me a couple of days to figure out that you hadn't told anyone about us." He stops and my next breath is a shaky one. The word 'us' has hit me hard. He looks at me seriously. Green eyes hold mine and there is no flirting, no seduction. There is emotion but I can't pinpoint exactly which one. "Where did you go?" he asks. I can hear the bigger question.

_Why did you go?_

I tell him about my travels. I tell him about walking in New York and understanding why he loves the place. I tell him about London and dodging cars on the wrong side of the road and the diamond that reminded me of him. I wax poetic about invisible prisons and colourful, indecipherable art and the beauty in fragile and fleeting things.

He listens, rapt. He refills our glasses and I keep talking.

After a while he starts asking questions. My emotional outpouring becomes a conversation. Unprompted, he tells me about Kate's pregnancy scare and how he took her to buy tests and then stayed with her while she took them. He tells me about the abject relief felt by both of them when those tests were negative and they went their separate ways for good. His arm is around me and our heads are leaning together.

Edward tells me about how it felt to be left behind without a clue. How it hurt and how it changed him.

I decide that, for tonight, I'm going to believe every word he tells me. Time enough to deal with the fallout later. I want tonight.

He asks me more about Japan and what made me decide to come home. He asks if this _is _home. I answer honestly that I don't know. I think I feel his lips brush my hair.

"You needed to go."

"I needed to go."

The wine bottle is empty and it's late. The bill is dealt with. Edward looks at me, sighing, "Are you ready to leave?"

He doesn't ask but I know he's going to walk me home. He holds my hand as we make our way up the short block to my apartment. He hugs me in the elevator. He's warm and smells so good and I can't tell which of us is trembling – maybe it's both of us.

The apartment I've sublet is at the end of a long hallway. Tension builds with each step and I'm having a very hard time keeping my breathing even. Edward is quiet, making small remarks about the building, commenting that he only lives a block further away. When I glance up at him I see his jaw is clenched. So the tension isn't just me then... that's reassuring.

I want him so badly. I want him to want me too.

I get out my key, unlock and open the door. I flick on the light in the hallway. When I turn back to Edward he's closer than I expect and I end up stumbling into his chest. He grabs my arms to steady me and he's so close. So close.

_Kiss me. Oh God, please kiss me. _

Edward lets me go. He shoves his hands in his pockets, glances over my shoulder into the apartment and then back to my face. He seems to be making a massive effort to not look me up and down. He swallows and looks down at his feet. I find it all amusing – and endearing. He's making me believe this is real.

There's only one way to find out.

"Did you want to come in?" I ask. The butterflies are back.

His head snaps up. He smiles and kind of leans in but almost as quickly frowns and leans back. "I do... but... I..." he's struggling and the butterflies turn to lead in my stomach. What did I do wrong? I thought this was going so well. I thought he still wanted me. "I know you probably want to take things slow – I get it, I respect that – especially after the way I acted before." He takes a few steps back until he's backed against the wall opposite my door. I don't like the distance. He goes on. "I don't know if it's a good idea to be alone with you. I want you to trust me–"

"You're wrong," I interrupt. I'm getting good at that. He's watching me intently. Waiting. Now, I have to swallow before going on. "I don't want to take things slow." I feel brave and bold and brazen. I want him so badly I can barely think. I've been over all this in my mind though. I don't need to think now.

His eyes are trained on me, weighing my words, weighing their meaning against what he wants. Because it's obvious now he wants me. As he's sweeping one long, lust-fuelled look along me, I'm doing the same to him and I can see the physical evidence of him wanting me. I take a step backward into my apartment, willing him to follow me. He does. He pushes away from the wall he's been leaning on and stalks slowly toward me.

"You're sure? Bella, you have to be sure because I don't have it in me to fight you off if you're playing around here," his voice is as low as I've ever heard it. I shake my head slowly back and forth.

"I mean it. I've been thinking about it all night. I don't want to take things slow."

Edward takes me at my word. There's nothing slow or particularly gentle about the way he lunges for me. He kicks the door closed and spins me so my back is against it. His lips are on mine in the same moment. There's no teasing or coaxing. This is an open-mouth, demanding kiss. He's not asking, he's telling, taking - and I'm giving it all back. My hands are in his hair, holding him close although he's not trying to get away.

We're panting within seconds. I love the solid feel of him pinning me to the door. His hands are low on my hips and his thumbs are stroking down the front of my thighs. The fabric of my dress is thin. I can feel the heat of his hands, the strength of him. Frankly, I think he's holding me up – if he let go I might just crumple to the floor.

Edward kisses down my neck and I gasp for air. I gasp his name and if I thought he'd been wild before I was wrong. With a groan, he's kissing me again and pulls me away from the door.

I'm half-dragged, half-carried to my bedroom. His mouth stays on mine; hot and desperate. We careen off a wall and a doorframe without slowing. Through a haze of Edward I wonder how he knew where it was or if he has some sort of radar to the find the nearest bed.

It occurs to me that perhaps I took some part in getting us to the bedroom in record time.

We fall onto the bed, a mess of hands and lips trying to do a million things at once. Clothing and shoes are shed and discarded at intervals. His chest is a work of art and it's only his impatience to get my dress off that makes me stop kissing it.

I don't know how he does it. I'm damn near close to coming from being kissed and tossed around. I think maybe it's not what he's doing but who he is.

It's only ever been like this with Edward.

That's why I'm doing this – now. If it's only tonight, I'll take it. We could go on for weeks dating, phone calls, meeting for coffee and I'd be waiting the whole time to see if this was all he wanted. I'd be walking on eggshells, skating on thin ice. Dancing with the devil. That's potentially what I'm doing right now. Selling my soul for one night because I've lived the past year with this being my only regret.

Whether I'm with Edward tonight or not, I'm never getting over him. There won't be another like this for me, ever. Perhaps he wants more, perhaps I'll be nothing more than the most elaborate notch in his womanizing belt.

I try to commit each touch to memory in case I have to live on them.

Edward pulls my dress over my head but doesn't go back to the frantic kissing. He's stretched out beside me, looking me over. I lay there like the offering I am in nothing but scraps of black lace. The low light may be playing tricks on me but he looks awed. One finger draws circles around my belly button.

I don't know what he's thinking. I feel so vulnerable. Literally exposed.

"Don't stop," I whisper. "Please, Edward. Don't stop." He kisses the side of my mouth, my forehead.

"I'm not stopping. I'm sorry... sorry I grabbed you like that." I roll to him. I shake my head.

"I loved it," I kiss his chest, my hands stroke down and behind.

I'm not going to forget to touch him this time. I squeeze and smile at him. He smiles too and rolls me to my back. My hands stay firmly planted on the beautiful ass I tried to run away from, just this morning.

He kisses my neck and moves lower, kissing between my breasts. I arch, let my nails scratch lightly all the way up his back and weave my fingers into his hair. I sigh with the sweet pleasure of it. Edward unclasps the black lace and tosses it aside. One of us whimpers. Pretty sure it's me.

"Oh Bella," he says. He's torturing me. "I have to tell- I have to show you..." He looks up then and there's that devilish smirk. "I know you said you didn't want to go slow... but I'm going to go slow now..." His mouth closes over my nipple. I groan and squirm. I arch trying to give him more.

_Take me. All of me. I'm yours. Always yours. _

His tongue draws a lazy circle and he flicks his gaze up to me. "I've waited too long to rush this, baby. I..." He ducks his head and takes my other breast into his mouth, sucking on it, licking it, until I cry out and beg.

"Oh please, oh please, oh please."

I feel his mouth curve into a smile against my skin. "Not yet." He shows me some mercy and kisses me again. He reaches down and touches me the way he did a year ago, through the wet fabric of my panties. This time he takes them off, quickly. There is nothing to stop us this time. No moral objection, no reason not to do this. It feels so good, all of it. Every touch, every kiss. Every look.

I peel his boxer briefs off and touch him for the first time. He gasps and pushes his hips toward me. He might think he wants to go slow but I want him inside me. I beg again.

"Please, Edward."

He dips fingers inside of me, pushing them slowly in and out. He watches my face, intent, intense. The heat and the pressure grow. I'm so close, he's driving me crazy. Edward looks down to watch me stroking him. He feels amazing, a solid substantial weight in my hand. With every stroke he seems to grow harder. With each of stroke of his fingers inside me, I grow wetter. More desperate.

The room is loud with the rustle of sheets, our needy sounds and ragged breathing. Edward is trying to talk, to say something but I only hear half-words and the sexiest little grunting sound.

He's on the verge of losing control and I love it. "Bella, baby, I..."

I'm reduced to begging. I'm reduced to needing this man and feeding this fire. This is all I can do. Beg and touch him and try to hold on until I finally feel him inside me. "Please... please..."

Edward is prepared and the haze of heat and desire recedes slightly as he rolls on a condom and I think about why it's necessary. If we go past this night, we'll sort this out but for now I put it out of my mind. He rolls on top of me and presses his forehead to mine. "You're sure?"

I'm beyond speaking. I nod, pull him to me. I want to kiss him, I want his tongue in my mouth while he pushes inside of me.

Oh.

My.

God.

"So good," he says. I'm thinking it – I just couldn't say it. He's saying my name and moving inside me and I'm moving with him.

Our bodies meet over and over, I lift my hips off the bed to meet each of his thrusts.

So good.

I love him and it all fizzes and boils inside. The love and the sensation. Edward moves faster and I'm there with him. He swears. Says my name. Swears again.

So good.

"I love-"

I didn't know it could be like this. I never imagined my whole body could ignite and shrink and expand to feel this one thing. Edward. Only Edward.

He's everything.

He's shaking and straining above me and I try to keep my eyes open. I want to see and feel. I want to see his muscles flex and his eyes rolling back and watch him struggle for some control.

"I love-"

He's trying to talk but I can't focus. My mouth drops open in a silent scream and then I'm there, I'm there. I'm rolling and flying and everything inside is shattering in the most delicious way. Edward cries out and I fly again, grasping him, holding him close. Committing to my most permanent memory the feel of him coming inside of me, shuddering on top of me and the unbelievable sound of him shouting my name.

* * *

><p><em>Erm, Happy Hump Day! (How's that for great timing?) Thanks for reading. One more chapter to go. Oh, and I ordered the hourglass necklace from my banner! Will twitpic it wrapped around Pocket Eddie when it arrives. <em>

_Chapter song: I Might Be Wrong by Radiohead (i love this song like it's a living thing)_

_**Word Prompt**__: Test _

_A single word meant to inspire immediate thought. Write what your imagination dictates._


	16. When Will I Know?

_SM owns Twilight. _

* * *

><p><em>beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep <em>

I groan. My arm snakes out from under the covers and whacks the top of my alarm, realizing as I'm doing so that my alarm is set to radio not obnoxious beeps - and for 6:30 am not the current ungodly 5 am.

I'm disoriented. I stretch and roll, looking for the source of that hideous sound. I roll into warm and solid.

"Sorry. Shhh. Don't wake up."

Edward stayed.

He silences what must be his phone and groans. In the dim light I see him rub his face and blink a few times.

My brain starts to work and fragments of memory flash through.

Dinner.

The walk home.

Not taking things slow. At all.

We didn't take things slow _twice_ last night.

That accounts for the state of my body. As I'm coming to full consciousness I feel warm twinges and a delicious mild soreness in unusual places.

Edward kisses my shoulder.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hey," I reply. I want to bask but reality is sneaking in. He's going to leave now... and I'll be in some sort of limbo until I know what he's really thinking.

"Hold on, I'll be right back," Edward gets out of bed, scooping his clothes from the chair and closing the bathroom door behind him.

I wait for him to make his escape. I figure it's better to assume the worst – isn't that how the saying goes? Expect the worse but hope for the best. Something like that. I can't think anymore because Edward is coming back. He sits on the edge of the bed and brushes hair back from my face. He's rumpled and sleepy looking. I want to drag him back under the covers.

"I have to go – early work thing. You feeling okay?" he asks, still whispering. I want to tell him there's no way I'm going back to sleep but he's leaning in when he whispers so I don't.

"Better than okay," I say. Sleepy Bella lacks a filter. I stretch and feel myself heating again at the way Edward is looking at me.

"Bella, I..." he strokes my cheek. "Last night was amazing. _You _are amazing."

I reach up and touch his face. He's stubbly and I have the strangest desire to watch him shave. Maybe I'll get the chance. He presses a chaste kiss to my lips and we both give a little hum.

"I think we can both take some credit for last night," I say. I want to say so much more but not yet. I want Edward to run the show. I want his sincerity and I suspect too much effort on my part would make things easy for him. Make me easy to manipulate.

Soon, I'll know. Soon, I'll know if I can trust him as much as I love him.

"Have dinner with me again? Tonight?" he asks. I grin like a fool and nod. I realize he has the same goofy look on his face. The idea that we could both really be feeling this way, that this could actually be happening, stuns me. He kisses my forehead and then stands to leave. When he's at my bedroom door, he turns back.

"Lunch too. What are you doing for lunch?"

###

I go to work early, hoping to get some things done before the office is full.

At nine o'clock there is a delivery.

A single rose. Red. And the exact coffee I'd ordered at the little shop with Edward the day before.

I start to let myself believe. Maybe he means it. Maybe it's real.

Either that or I'm much, much better in bed than I thought.

###

I knock, before forgetting he hates it when I knock. It's not like I have a key or anything but we've been together for three months. Edward doesn't want me to knock; if he's home – and I know he is – I'm supposed to walk on in. Before I can open the door, Edward is pulling it open, pulling me to him and he's talking so fast I can barely make out the words.

"I got it! Bella! I got it!"

Edward loves his work. He's good at it too and has been in demand for more and more challenging projects. He's amassing a pretty big profile and went after a project that was a bit beyond what he'd done so far. He's been like a caged animal for days, waiting to hear if he got the job.

"_It_? Oh my God, Edward! That's amazing!"

His green eyes flash with excitement and triumph. I've seen him pumped up about work stuff before but never quite like this. He nods and scoops me up into a hug, my feet are off the floor. He spins us around and then dips me back, kisses me. Passion is passion after all and Edward is full of it. It's infectious.

It's one of the reasons I've let myself fall so deeply in love with him.

We're grinning at each other. I'm so happy for him.

I wonder if I should save my own announcement for another day.

"My mind is kind of a runaway train right now," he says. Edward takes a comically deep breath, makes a show of pulling himself back to cool and collected. "I'm going to work for a couple of hours, okay? Then we'll go out and celebrate?" He looks around his apartment and back to me. "You've got something to do, sweetheart? You're staying over tonight, right?"

I nod. I always stay over on Friday nights. Most Saturdays too. Usually a couple of times during the week and sometimes Edward stays at my place if it gets late and he's tired.

I still have qualms, doubts. Not about how he feels – I know that's real. What I don't know yet is if he's capable of more than a couple of months without getting bored or noticing someone shinier and more intriguing. I had a personal celebration when we passed the two month mark. I'm officially his longest relationship, ever. Which could mean it might be over any day now.

All I can do is wait. And enjoy.

Oh, am I ever enjoying Edward.

"I have a book..." I say. He's sitting at his desk, already absorbed in thoughts and plans for the new project that will put him on the national radar. Edward knows me pretty well though. So, although I'm trying to keep my news to myself for now, let him have this day, he knows. He looks up and a little frown creases his brow.

"What is it?" I love that he knows.

I duck my head, suck in a breath. "I wasn't going to say anything today... but, um... well, I got a new job too." I look up and I'm beaming at him. It was literally the last call I took before leaving work and I'm bouncing inside. This job is perfect. Exactly what I was looking for.

Edward's smile is cautious. He stands and walks over to the sofa where I'm sitting. He sits and takes my hand.

"Where, I mean, what is it? What's the job?" His expression is indecipherable. I rub his hand, squeeze it and he squeezes mine back.

"Teaching. At this incredible school that I've been obsessed with for years! I've been waiting to see if an opening would come up and my contract at the bank is half done so the timing is perfect..." Edward is still smiling that cautious smile. Waiting. "Where is it?" I echo his first question. "Here. Seattle," I say.

He blows out a breath as if he's been holding it. I'm gathered into a fierce hug. "I thought... Jesus, I thought for a second you were going away again," he says. He kisses the top of my head and leans back to look at me. His smile is the natural one now. All Edward, all warm and blindingly bright.

Holy shit.

He thought _I'd_ leave _him_?

"So, you're staying?" he asks. This gorgeous, talented, passionate man is asking me for reassurance, a promise. The look on his face - hope and desire – slices through me. My heart might burst.

I don't trust myself to speak. I nod and he pulls me into another tight hug. We sit together for a while, breathing. Silent.

I feel safe and cherished.

He's warm... and he smells so good. Being held by him, feeling so wanted, does other things to me. It makes me feel impulsive. I might not be ready to tell him that he's the whole world to me. I don't know if he's ready to hear that I never want to be without him – but I want to show him.

I pull back enough to look at him. My hands find his face, my fingers feel smooth skin and light stubble. I wriggle out of his arms and straddle him. I kiss one of his cheeks, then the other. I put my lips to his ear.

"I'm not going anywhere, Edward. Do you really think I could walk away from this?" I look at him, look for the answer.

His eyes are happy. I made him happy.

I want to make him even happier.

I put my hands on his chest and kiss him. I kiss him solidly, the way I've learned. From him. When I roll my hips lightly – I can't help myself, it's almost a reflex – I can feel him. He's already getting hard.

"I love you," we say at the same time. We laugh under our breath.

We've made a kind of inside joke about 'taking it slow' and sometimes we do. Edward seems to have a thing for bringing me to the edge over and over, torturing me with his hands and lips, until I beg. I may have wept a few times too. It's not always like that though. Sometimes we'll be out and one single look will pass between us. The air leaves the room, sounds become muted. There's nothing but us and what we want to do. So far, luckily, we've managed to make it back to one of our apartments before getting naked. After all, neither of us wants to get arrested.

Right now, I'm the one in control. And all I want is Edward inside me.

I make short work of his belt and button. His hands are under my skirt and I feel silk slide down my legs and know they'll be hanging from my ankle. I can't bring myself to move off of him for the second it would take to kick them away.

I sink onto him, feel him fill me. Hard, hot. Bliss.

His eyes are dark and his hands are in my hair, on my face. We kiss, a claiming kiss. I want him to know how I feel and I want to be able to show him this way. I feel like I can't get close enough. It's a ridiculous thought. I'm draped over him, riding him. He's inside me, his tongue is in and out of my mouth. He's everywhere.

I gasp when he pushes my hair to the side and sucks on the sensitive skin low on my neck. I hope it leaves a mark. I grab his hair, keeping him right where I want him. He pushes his hips up to meet mine and we're panting together. I put my lips to his ear again. Kiss and suck and love that I can do this to him.

"I'm going to come soon, Edward. I want you to come with me. Harder, baby." It took awhile to get used to talking like that – and I don't do it often. Edward's reaction is always worth it.

He groans so loud I think for a second that he _did_ come.

He lifts me and I push down, hard. The room is spinning and I can smell that perfect Edward smell that has always been like a custom made aphrodisiac - spicy warmth, heated male skin. All Edward. Over and over we move and I'm loud, I can't help it when we do it like this. I clutch and cry out. I slump forward over him and groan. Edward is so hard, I can feel every bit of him as he moves in and out of me.

He's chanting. Each word is a hot breath against my chest.

_I love you. I love you. I love you. _

I feel the words every bit as strongly as I feel him inside. The sex is amazing, Edward is always amazing.

This time though, it's his _I love you_ that makes me come; his _I love you_ that sends me flying.

###

The big, new job includes a big, new, demanding client. Edward has to go to New York for the first time since we've been together.

I think about it when he tells me about the trip. He used to go to New York or Chicago or LA at least once a month. We've been together four months and he hasn't gone away once.

Weird.

I ask him about it and he looks sheepish. I wonder for one crazy second if he's making up his job and shake my head at myself. Paranoid much? Of course he isn't making up the job... I meet him there. I've met colleagues. Been to social functions.

"I've been able to set up remote meetings. Skype and stuff," he answers. He's checking his email before we go out for the night.

"But you love New York," I say. He sighs but he's smiling. I walk around to him and he pulls me down into his lap.

"I do. I knew you wouldn't be able to go and I didn't want to leave... I didn't want you to think about, you know? I didn't want you to worry about... anything," he's stumbles over words but I get his meaning.

He doesn't think I completely trust him. I don't know if I do either. It hits me suddenly that I won't know until I _need_ to trust him.

"Can you get some time off? Why don't you come with me?" he offers. It's an intriguing idea.

"Not this time," I say. I'm smiling and cuddling in. I'm sending my boyfriend, he of the epic womanizing reputation, off on his own for three days.

I think it's time to know.

###

Edward calls from the airport, the cab and as soon as he gets to the hotel.

He calls between meetings and texts under the lunch table.

Once he's back at the hotel for the night, we start a Skype call. We watch a movie, have a drink. Talk for a long time about not very much. Just to see and hear each other for as long as possible. Two senses fulfilled are better than none.

Edward yawns.

"Oh baby, you should go to bed," I say. I feel guilty. I forgot the time change and I know he has to be up early. He scrubs his face and nods.

"I'll put my laptop here," he's moving it and the visual jumps around, nauseatingly erratic. When the picture steadies I see the bed.

Oh, boy. I don't know if I'm ready for this sort of thing...

Neither, apparently is Edward. I'm developing quite the dirty mind.

"I'll probably fall asleep pretty fast. We'll leave it on," he says, smiling and yawning again. "Then you can see exactly what's going on. Nothing to worry about." He crawls under the covers.

I'm floored.

"Edward, no."

"What's wrong?" he asks. He gets out of bed and a second later his beautiful face is filling the screen again. "Listen, I don't mind. I kind of like the idea –"

"This is because you think I don't trust you, right?" I ask. My heart is fluttering in my chest. I'm on the verge of an epiphany.

Trust isn't only something that Edward needs to earn. He can only do so much – and he has done every possible thing to prove that he's a changed man. A trustworthy one. I have to give too. It's my turn.

"Watching you all night to make sure you don't sneak a woman in there isn't trust," I'm laughing. So is he.

"I want you to trust me," he says. He shrugs, smiles lightly and my heart gives a little extra thump. He's been very patient with me.

"So do I," I say. He reaches out and touches the screen and I swear I can feel the tenderness through the wires and circuits. The final wall comes down not with a crash but a dissolution. I wish so badly that he was here. "That's why you have to end the call. Say good night, Edward." My heart is in my throat. In a happy way.

"Good night, Edward," he says with a cheeky grin.

"Ass."

"I love you."

"I love you."

_End call_

###

I'm in transition.

The six month contract with the bank is almost up, as is the lease on the sublet. I start at the school in six weeks and Edward and I have planned a little get away before I begin my new job.

He asked where I wanted to go. I told him he could choose this time. Now he won't tell me where we're going.

I guess that kind of serves me right.

The apartment hunt is not going well. I'm picky about where in the city I want to live and there isn't much available. Edward has his own concerns. He wants me close and safe.

I'm relieved when he calls. He thinks he might've found a place and picks me up after work so I can go check it out.

We hold hands as we walk through our own familiar neighbourhood.

"Well I like the area," I say. I haven't said out loud that I want to stay close to Edward's apartment but I'm sure he knows. I laugh when we stop in front of his building.

"There's a unit available?" Edward squeezes my hand. I like the idea immensely. I'd essentially be under the same roof as Edward. Good enough... for now. "It would have to be a bachelor one, I don't think I can afford anything else in here..." I go to walk into the building but Edward doesn't move and since we're holding hands I'm jerked lightly back toward him.

I turn and look at him. He's looking down at me with the mischievous smile he uses to hide strong feelings.

Yeah, I know him pretty well.

He pushes his hair off his forehead and then lifts his chin, pointing at the building.

"Well, you're here all the time anyway and you said you like the neighbourhood," he clears his throat and I feel my mouth pop open.

Edward doesn't do this sort of thing.

_He does for you. _

His little fit of nerves has passed. He smiles that smile, the one that warms me. I bask in it. "What I'm trying to say is... I'd love for you to move in with me. If you want to. I want you to know that's an option," he says. His voice is laced with emotion. I can hear how much he wants this. "I really want to live with you, Bella. Sometimes even the next room feels too far away."

I lean into him. One of Edward's hobbies is making me swoon. He's really good at it.

I need to say something.

"Can I repaint the bathroom?" I love him madly but he's also fun to mess with.

Edward's laugh vibrates through me. "Sure, if you need to."

"And your couch..."

"I ask you to live with me – share my life – and you make jokes?" He knows my answer. Cool metal is pressed into my hand. A key.

I make some inarticulate, happy sound and he hugs me tight.

We're going to live together.

Long ago, Edward said he didn't want white picket fences or official pieces of paper but he's never lived with anyone before either. It took a long time for me to believe in this, in us. Edward Cullen has changed almost as much as I have.

We made each other better.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Edward's voice is husky.

He's always asking me questions. He has been all along.

_What do you want?_

_I don't know._

_What are you going to do?_

_I don't know. _

_Do you trust me?_

_I don't know._

I know how to answer them all now.

Now I know.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you so much for reading. Really. Your reactions to this story thrilled me - even the angry ones. <em>

_Extra big thanks and hugs to Aussiegirl101 for her beta skills and overall awesomeness._

_Big, big thanks to the ladies who read this as an anon witfit story and encouraged me to share it. You should know, if it was up to Rochelle A, the song choice for chapter 15 would have been 'Reunited, and it Feels So Good.' Lol_

_Ah yes, chapter song. Some of you have guessed it already. I'm nothing if not predictable..._

_Can you guess?_

_C'mon?_

_Lol_

_What else could it be?_

_'Here Comes the Sun' *tears* Thanks again._


	17. Epilogue

SM owns Twilight. Thank you abinar and ausgirl123 for cleaning it up on short on short notice. ilu ilu iluuuuuuuuuuuu (I said that like Buddy the Elf!)

**A slightly Christmas-y epilogue/future-take.**

* * *

><p><em>Oh the weather outside is frightful <em>

_But the fire is so delightful_

_And since we've no place to go_

_Let it snow let it snow let it snow_

It _is_ snowing - big, fat, floaty flakes which reflect the lights from the massive tree at Rockefeller Center. I'm in the back of a toasty cab, idling at a red light. Between the dark of early morning and my extreme fatigue, I have the surreal feeling of being caught in a snow globe.

The ice rink is lit up, equal parts pretty and scary. Edward is going to want to skate on that.

The traffic light goes green and the cab lurches forward.

Just a few blocks to go now.

Two weeks away from Edward is two weeks too long. And the past six months have had too many two weeks away. He may have spent more time in New York than Seattle. It was all fun and games the first couple of times Edward was away; absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. The reunions were fun too, still are.

The empty nights are too much now.

I don't sleep well without him. And I can't help worrying... so much time apart. Will it take a toll on us?

The cab pulls up in front of the hotel. I've been here with Edward before but the foyer looks slightly unfamiliar, done up for the holidays. The decorations are minimal, modern. A stark contrast from the garish, childish decorations at work, back home. Of course, those were actually made by children, my students. The whirlwind days leading up to Christmas break are dragging at me. My brilliant plan?

_I'll sleep on the plane. _

Famous last words. Red-eye flights are aptly named.

Two cranky babies and an hour of alarming turbulence put the kibosh on that. I turned to my old friend - caffeine - and am running on its last fumes. I get a key from the uber-professional blonde manning the sleek front desk, pull my ridiculously heavy suitcase to the elevator and jab the button for the eighteenth floor.

Edward is eighteen floors away. I count them down under my breath as the elevator ascends. This trip is important. I know he has a lot on his mind; his job is demanding, hence the near incessant travel. Something has to give though. The scariest words in the language of relationships float through my mind as the light goes from fourteen to fifteen.

_We need to talk. _

I know he loves me. He tells me all the time. I also know something has been eating at him. He swears it's work, not _us_ - and I believe him. I just want things back to normal. I just want to be with him.

This will be our third Christmas together, Edward and I, but our first with snow. We've always managed to get away somewhere hot and sunny. The first time was kind of necessary; my parents weren't prepared to spend time with Edward and there was no way in hell I was spending our first Christmas as a couple without him. Getting out of Dodge was good for everyone.

Edward has long since charmed the pants off my parents, well my mother, and not literally. He doesn't do that anymore. Well, only to me. Edward charms the literal pants off me almost daily. When he's home, that is.

But I digress.

We went to Greece last year. Mike's wedding was on New Year's Eve and once again, Edward and I felt it better to be out of town and out of the way. So it's kind of a tradition, or a tradition in the making at least. I love it.

Tradition or not, I'm joining Edward in New York out of necessity.

The elevator door dings and rumbles opens. My body _wants_ to hurtle myself down the hall but my legs are actually wobbly with fatigue.

Stupid colicky babies who don't like turbulence.

I let myself into the quiet suite. It's not quite six; Edward must be sleeping. I drop my bags just inside the door and tip toe to the bathroom, shedding coat, boots, my pants and sweater along the way. Quick and quiet, I do my thing and give my teeth a quick brush.

"Bella?" Edward's raspy voice calls out.

He's sitting up in the bed, shirtless, tousled... perfect. His sleepy smile is all the light I need in the dim room. I use the last of my energy to cross the dark space separating us and collapse beside him.

I'm home.

"Baby," he whispers. I missed him so much. He kisses me and everything is okay. For now. We'll talk tomorrow... later today? I can't think. Oh, he's warm...

Edward asks questions between kisses; about my flight, my students' Christmas concert, did I miss him? He missed _me _and his kisses become more insistent, trailing down along my chin and my neck. I close my eyes in bliss. Edward is on top of me - hard, hot and intent. The bed below me is freakishly soft, I'm sinking into it and this pillow... Edward is the best blanket ever...

There's a strange ripping sound and then the bed shakes. Edward's laughing.

I force my eyes open. "Wha's funny?" I slur.

"You are," Edward answers, still shaking. He's hovering above me all delicious-looking with an amused glint in his brilliant, green eyes. "You were snoring..._ while_ I was trying to make love to you."

"I don't snore," I mumble against his bare chest. I breathe deep and sigh happily.

"Oh, but you do. It's adorable." He tips his head to the side, examining me. "Jesus, you are _exhausted_." Edward clucks like a fretful mother. "Sleep, Bella."

He rolls out of bed and I feel torn. I want him _and_ I want to sleep. Is it kinky to ask him to just go ahead anyway? Is that a thing? Somnia.. something ...philia?

Edward kisses my forehead and pulls the heavy duvet up to my chin. "What'll you do?" I ask. My massive yawn drowns out his answer. He pushes hair away from my face and smiles at me, warming me straight through. I'm already floating away.

"You can sleep," he says. My eyes close. I couldn't keep them open if I tried. I think Edward says something else... but I can't hear him over that ripping noise.

###

Is four hours enough sleep?

I've read the papers, dealt with my email. I even had breakfast brought up, enough for both of us, but when I cracked the bedroom door open Bella was still out cold. She hadn't moved an inch. That was two hours ago.

I sigh, childishly impatient. We leave for St Lucia the day after Christmas. Bella needs her sun - and I like Bella in a bikini. This leaves us three days in New York to be tourists: skating and seeing the tree and the lights and maybe even one of those corny horse and buggy rides through Central Park.

I weigh the risk/reward of waking her too early. I'll let her sleep another hour.

God, I've missed her.

Two weeks is two weeks too long.

It's my fault this has happened. It was a classic case of trying to have my cake and eat it too. Or trying to please all of the people all of the time. The Seattle office is fantastic - I started my career there and I feel a huge sense of loyalty to them. The action however, and the big, big deals are in New York. And I'm called more and more to pilot these projects. Now this tempting offer - a promotion and a team of my own - but I can't do it.

I can't ask Bella to move.

She's already done so much to be with me. Risked the wrath of her parents (or her mother at least), alienated most of her friends (Except Angela. Angela didn't even seem surprised when Bella told her about us), put up with my travel and long hours.

More than that.

We've talked about early on, when she first came back from Japan and took that leap of faith - or folly - by giving me a chance. She really wasn't sure. That hurt more than I let her know. I didn't deserve her trust, not at first. Bella's built a life in Seattle; friends, her job, her family close by. I'm not going to be the one to take her away from it. The best I can do is try to balance out the travel and my time away from her. It's not an ideal solution but I can't ask her to move and I'm risking my career if I turn down every East coast project that I'm offered.

I peek in the room again and see Bella has rolled to the side. I can't see her face. That won't do. "Bella?" I whisper, walking to the far side of the room so I can see her. Nothing. I check my watch. Eleven. I take a seat and try to make myself wait a little longer.

She's cute when she sleeps, all rolled up, her hair everywhere. I study her beautiful face; wide eyes with dark lashes resting on delicate cheekbones. Her lips, slightly parted, full and pink. I twitch just looking at her. I've missed her, everything about her, but right now I'm missing being with her. This is torture. Look but don't touch. An experiment in delayed gratification. I drink her in, from her sweet, sleeping face down over the gentle curve and slope of her body under the covers. My gaze rests on the swell of her hip and I think about how good her hips feel in my hands -

"Edward." My eyes snap to Bella's face. Her eyes are still closed.

She's talking in her sleep.

I hold my breath, waiting for more. I've missed this while I was away from her. Bella rolls to her back, kicks a leg free of the covers and sighs. I sigh quietly too and order myself to not go and kiss her leg. Kiss and lick all the way up that smooth, soft skin until...

"Stay," she sighs. "Don't go. Please...don't go."

Oh.

Fuck.

Bella's dreaming about me leaving. My heart gives a sickening thud. I look at her again - is she thinner? Bella doesn't eat enough when I'm not there. There are dark circles under her eyes too. I know damn well she doesn't sleep enough either when I'm away. I put my head in my hands. What am I doing to her? I asked her to move in with me and then spend half my time away?

"I'm so sorry," I whisper.

In a moment of perfect clarity I realize how selfish I've been. Trying to have my cake and eat it too? Putting Bella second is what I've been doing. I'm such an asshole.

That's it. No more New York.

The decision is easy once I realize what I've been doing to Bella. She sighs again and rolls back to her side, her hair falls over her face. I hate the thought of her dreaming about me walking away.

I walk to the window and crack the drapes. Bella hisses and buries her head in the pillow. I laugh softly. "Time to get up Sleeping Beauty," I say. I know why I want her awake and that makes me feel selfish too. "You can't sleep anymore if you want to get on New York time. Up." I tickle along her side. Bella groans, slowing surfacing. I pull my shirt over my head and get into the bed.

"What are you? Some sort of jet lag expert," Bella grumps. I gather her up in my arms, nuzzle behind her ear. My erection is pressed against her leg and she wriggles and hums, her words at odds with her body's reaction. "Correction," Bella murmurs. "Horny jet lag expert." We smile at each other. The time apart starts to fade away like a bad dream.

"I missed you," I whisper. I trail kisses down her neck. She smells all sweet and sleepy; I breathe deep and roll on top of her. Bella's catching up now, her hands are stroking my back, her legs twining around mine. I press against her, more deliberately, and Bella makes a little sound in her throat. A happy, 'yes, please' sound that echoes inside me. I get harder.

I go to kiss her lips but Bella puts her hands on my chest. She's full awake now, the sliver of light through the curtain shining in her eyes. "You're gonna kill me," she mutters.

"What?" I'm staring at her mouth. I want my kiss.

"I gotta... you know," Bella cuts her eyes toward the bathroom. My blood-deprived mind doesn't get it.

Bella here.

Me want Bella.

I try to kiss her again but she wiggles below me. I lean back to look at her.

She smiles. Bella knows exactly which Edward she's dealing with at the moment. Her eyebrow arches. "Let me up, Edward. Unless you _want_ to pretend I'm a squirter -" I'm off her before she can finish the sentence. She makes a run for it, laughing.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I'm stunned. Bella doesn't say shit like that. "Bella!" I call. I'm laughing too and hop out of the bed, following in her wake. "That's the... the... dirtiest thing I've ever heard you say!" I didn't even know she knew the term.

I hear water turn on and off, a flush. I'm standing in the doorway so when Bella opens the door I'm right there. I smirk at her squeak of surprise. "Where the hell did you hear _that_?" I ask, still laughing. I'm not saying Bella is particularly tame but she doesn't go too far out there. She doesn't need to. "You watching porn when I'm away, baby?" I tease.

She's still giggling too. "I read a lot, okay? I learn the strangest things." Bella goes to step out of the bathroom but I'm blocking her. I take a step forward and she backs up. A half-wary, half-excited light sparks in her dark eyes.

Seeing Bella in this particular room has triggered a memory. A good/bad kind of memory. A _dirty_ memory. I'm inspired and reach past her to turn on the shower. Bella smiles a slow smile that makes my chest ache and my cock twitch. "I want to tell you something," I say. My voice is low, already thinking about what I'm going to say and do. Bella's hands are on my chest again, stroking up and down.

"What?" she asks, looking back and forth between my eyes and my lips. I kiss her softly, touching her face, her hair. We both hum with the simple pleasure of it.

"I don't know," I say, teasing again. "It's pretty dirty." I back us up, pulling her camisole up and over her head. "Filthy actually." Bella eyes go wide. I kiss her again, my hands move from her shoulders down her arms to her breasts. I circle her nipples with my thumbs.

"Ah," Bella gasps. She looks from me to the shower. "So filthy you have to tell me in the shower?" I nod slowly. The room is steaming up as we strip completely and get under the spray. I pull her to me, kiss her hard as my hands find her ass. I'm rock hard, painfully hard, my erection trapped between us. "Tell me," Bella says when I leave her mouth to kiss up and down her neck.

Damn. I really didn't think this through. Is Bella going to want to hear this?

"Um, you're beautiful?" I guide Bella under the water. It runs over her, soaking her hair and skin.

"That's not dirty," Bella laughs. Her eyes are dark, her hands on either side of my face. "Tell me," she demands.

I blow out a breath and gird my loins. Literally. "Well," I start. "In a bathroom in this hotel - just like this one - I, uh...it was a really long time ago..." Bella wears an adorably confused expression. I take a deep breath and force my dirty secret out.

"I... uh, fantasized... about you... um, being in... theshowerwithmewhileIgotoffb ymyself."

I'm expecting a giggle at best, an 'ew' at worst and I watch her expression carefully as my babbled sentence processes. I see the exact moment when full comprehension hits her. Bella's body responds at the same time - and I know her body. She breaks out in goose bumps, her pupils dilate and she leans toward me. Bella's not put off by my little confession, not at all.

Bella's fucking turned on.

"Really?" She glances around the spacious shower then back to me, trailing her finger from the middle of my chest down, down. "What did I do?" she asks. I move us so her back is against the wall, pale skin on dark marble. I lean against her, trapping her. Not that she's trying to get away. My hand strokes down her side, across the soft skin of her stomach. Two fingers trail lower, between her legs and then up, into her wet heat. Bella's head falls back and she gasps. "Edward."

I kiss right below her ear and whisper to her. "It was years ago. It was so real, Bella, like you were here with me. I wanted you so badly. You... it was a really long time ago..." She pulls on my hair so I have to look at her. Bella moans softly as I work my fingers in and out of her, slowly. I go on. "It was before you were mine. You were still with Mike - I almost went crazy you know? How did you not know?"

Alternate futures crash around in my mind. What if she'd married him? What if she'd never come back from Japan?

What if we'd never been together? What if I'd never known this amazing woman and this amazing life with her?

Bella senses my mood, she feels my anxiety. She grips my wrist, stilling my fingers inside her. "What... did I do?" she whispers. "This?" she asks, meaning our current activity. I shake my head sheepishly. No, even in my fantasies I'm a selfish asshole. Bella smiles at me wickedly and bats my hand away. She sinks to her knees. "This?" I nod, incapable of speech. Her soft hand wraps around me, strokes me, once... twice. Bella kisses the tip and looks up. "More?" I nod and whimper. Bella's grin is triumphant. She licks along the underside of my rigid cock, cups my sensitive sac in the palm of her hand. I groan loudly when Bella takes me in her mouth, slow and deep; my eyes roll back. She releases me for a moment, licks her lips, and takes me in again, and then again, humming and swirling her tongue with each stroke. I put my hands on the wall behind her, bracing myself as she sucks and licks me. Water streams over us, rolling and steaming. The heat of it is nothing compared to the heat of her sweet mouth.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," I chant. I put a hand on her dark, bobbing head. "I love you, God, I fucking love you." Bella laughs and I think she says 'I bet you do'. She looks up at me with those big brown eyes and it's déjà vu, but better. I never fantasized about loving her this much. I didn't even know _this_ was possible for me.

She steps it up, taking me in further, faster, squeezing my balls just this side of painfully. It feels so fucking good, pressure is building. I'm trying to hold on but Bella is giving the blow job to end all blow jobs. This was the fantasy but there was _more_.

I want the more.

"Bella, stop. Stop, fuck, you're gonna make me come." I'm panting, holding on to the wall to support my shaky legs. Bella stands, dark wet hair streaming around her shoulders, deep, needy eyes locked on mine.

"What else did we do?" she asks. Her voice cracks with need. I bend to kiss one breast then the other. I suck and bite her nipples, try to get her on the edge with me. My hands are low again and those same two fingers go back where they belong. "Edward, please?"

"Put your arms around my neck," I breathe. "Hold on to me." I stroke her a few times until she whimpers. I brush her clit with the back of my hand as I reach around to grab her sweet ass. "Hold on," I say again as I lift her and press her against the wet marble. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively, lining us up. One thrust and I'm fully inside her, where I always want to be, her wet, slick skin searing me. I groan against her neck as we start to move together. We find that perfect rhythm, not slow but not yet frantic. Just feeling each other as the heated water rains down on us.

"This?" she asks, her voice a sob. I nod.

"Yes," I pant against her mouth. I lick her bottom lip, sweep my tongue against hers.

My fantasy brought to life.

My fantasy only better because it's real. She didn't stay away or marry anyone else. She's mine. Bella's mine.

I'm struggling for control, gasping as my hips thrust up to hers over and over. "Always mine," I almost growl. I move faster, harder, the sound of our wet skin smacking together echoes around the shower.

"Yes... yes," Bella cries out. Her arms are tight around my neck, her face level with mine. Our noses touch, I kiss her cheek. "Edward," she gasps and I feel the beginning of her orgasm deep inside. She stiffens and my cock gets harder too. Bella clings to me as I drive into her mercilessly.

I know I'm going to come any second and I want her flying when it happens. I shift her slightly to the side and thrust deep, grunting at the new angle. There it is.

"Kiss me," Bella breathes and I do. We crash together, both so close, the kiss the final piece. She explodes around me and I watch her face, the strained concentration melting to a blissed-out expression.

When she whispers my name, I'm done, coming hard as Bella's goes on, trembling around me. She's still clinging to me but I know it's not so much holding on anymore.

She's holding me together.

###

A few hours later, we've had a late lunch from room service and showered again - this times with actual cleansing involved. All my big plans for New York are out the window.

Fuck the giant tree and the skating rink. I want Bella and bed. She's not complaining at all.

"You seem more relaxed," Bella says, taking a magazine out of my hands and throwing it on a nearby table. She sits in my lap and looks at me with a smile. "Spill time, Edward. You've had plenty of time to mull over whatever it is that's bothering you. And you're driving me crazy. Talk." Bossy Bella will not be denied.

I sigh, not unhappily. "I had some work stuff to figure out but it's over now. Decision made, stress over. Bada boom bada bing," I say in my best Jersey Shore accent. Bella makes a gagging noise.

"Don't ever do that again," she deadpans. We sit in silence for a minute. "What was the work thing? It's just... that was really difficult, knowing you were struggling with something but being left out of it. I know that's how you operate sometimes - I can respect that - but now that's it's over can you tell me. So I can put the next Edward funk on a scale from one to ten," she finishes with a wink.

I tell her about the job, the promotion offer, the stream of high-level projects that are only available in New York. I tell her I was trying to do too much, stretching myself thin. I apologize for being away so much and tell her it'll be different now. Bella listens intently, a tiny furrow on her brow growing more pronounced with each of my revelations.

"But if they need you here-" Bella starts. I put a finger on her lips, shushing her. She pushes my hand away and gives me a look. "Did you even consider taking it? Moving here?"

"I wouldn't ask you to do that. And you are much, much more important to me than a job." I mean every word but Bella looks kind of... mad.

"You didn't even ask me!"

"No, I -"

"Edward," Bella sighs. "I can do _my_ job anywhere there are children." She shakes her head at me but she's smiling again. "I'd have to look into it but... I'm pretty sure there are schools in New York."

"Yeah, but you love your school -"

"Yes. I do." Bella searches my eyes. She moves off my lap and turns so we're face to face. "But _you_ can't realize your potential in Seattle." She's all lit up with something. "Baby, you're a star! You need to be _here_."

"Your parents," I counter. Bella makes a 'pfft' noise.

"Please," she says. "We see them a few times a year. We could still manage that from out here."

"You really want to do this?" I'm smiling. She's still watching me closely; I can see her weighing her next words, trying them out in her head.

Bella puts a hand on my cheek. "Do you think there's _any_ job that would be more important to me than you?" Bella loves rhetorical questions. I shake my head. "Do you think there's any place in the world I want to live if I'm not with you?" Her eyes are all soft and I get it; I've underestimated her. I shake my head again, swallowing the lump in my throat. She looks a bit smug. She knows she's getting to me. "Edward Cullen, I'm about to give you an obscene amount of power over me - I trust you won't abuse it?" Bella climbs back onto my lap and pulls my head down to hers so our foreheads are touching. My sweet girl is still telling me what's what. I don't only hear her next whispered words; I feel them. "You tell me where and when. As long as you want me... I'll be there with you."

I don't trust myself to speak. "Okay," I manage. We sit for a long time, staring out the window. If she notices me shaking from time to time she doesn't say anything.

This is huge. I try to imagine life in New York with Bella.

She's going to love it here.

"You're sure?" I finally ask.

"Yeah," Bella says. We both sigh in relief.

She makes it all so easy. Because it is. Where I saw a problem and twisted myself into a giant complicated knot, she saw... us. She took that knot and unravelled it and showed me it's simply a straight line leading to our future. No complication. It's the easiest thing in the world to take her hand and walk along together. If I wasn't such a self-centred fool I would have seen the answer to all my little insecurities before.

I've missed a step along the way.

I shift Bella off my lap, slip off the couch, kneel on the carpet in front of her.

Bella looks up, confused. "Did you drop something?" What kind of asshole am I that she doesn't think this is a possibility for us? I know I mentioned something, years ago, about not being interested in marriage. I've grown up since then - and I know that I want Bella in my life forever.

"No, I didn't drop anything." I smile and breathe deep through my nose. I'm nervous; not about asking, about her answer. I suddenly want this more than anything. Bella's jaw drops as she realizes what I'm doing.

"Bella, I don't just want to move here with you... I want to be married to you." I frown. "Damn it, I don't have a ring. I didn't think... I'm making a mess of this. Maybe I should-" I move to get up.

"No, no!" Bella puts her hands out to stop me getting up. "No, this is good! This is perfect. Go on. Keep going." She's beaming at me and I'm not nervous anymore. I take her hand in mine, turn words over in my head.

"Bella, you surprise me, over and over. You put up with me," I smile at Bella's cute snort and then see her eyes are bright with tears. "I waited so long for you and I'm glad you made me wait because I want to be worthy of you. I want to protect you," Bella raises an eyebrow at this but she's squeezing my hand and smiling so I go on, "laugh with you, live every day with you. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here; I thought I was afraid of marriage in general but I'm not. Not with you. The only thing I'm afraid of is being without you. So, Bella, please? Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she mouths. A tear rolls down her cheek. We're both still as statues for a long minute, stunned by what we've just done. Then, she's off the couch and in my arms and I'm murmuring 'thank you' and 'I love you' into her hair and she's saying the same against my chest.

I know it won't all be easy. There are a thousand details to work out, a job for Bella to find, things to pack, the demonic New York real estate market to tackle. I know we'll fight, I know I'll let her down sometimes - without meaning to. I also know I'll always make it up to her. With Bella at my side I know I'm one of the lucky ones. Not everyone gets to know this kind of happiness. 'Happiness' isn't a big enough word for what I'm feeling right now. I search for a better word: content, euphoric, ecstatic... All of them close but not quite right, not quite enough. I don't know.

Maybe there isn't a word for me and Bella.

When Bella is in a particular mood, she calls me 'Sunshine'. I've always thought it was kind of silly but I get her point now. She's like the earth and the sea to me. Everywhere. Everything. And that is what I finally say to her as we watch the sun go down over the park in the city that is going to be our new home.

"Do you know that you are absolutely everything to me?"

She's pink and gold in the light of the sunset.

"I really do, baby. I know."

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading and thank you for making posting this story so much fun! Coincidence... (not a coincidence) It's Winter Solstice. Get it? Shortest day of the year? ;) Have a wonderful holiday.<p>

Song: Yellow Lights - Of Monsters and Men


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